


evil motherfuckers

by icylangdon



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Femdom, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Humiliation, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylangdon/pseuds/icylangdon
Summary: just a collection of smutty michael langdon x reader fics bc i'm a slut for the antichrist.(all of these originally were posted to my tumblr!!)





	1. Red Handed (Outpost Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael catches you snooping through his laptop. smut ensues.  
> (this was the first smut fic i ever wrote. so. it sucks. lol)
> 
> includes: fingering, blowjob/face fucking, dom!Michael, slight dubcon, fem!Reader

You didn’t trust the new man at the Outpost. There was something about him that sent a chill down your spine, and no matter how badly you wanted to believe that he was there with good intentions, you couldn’t.

You hated the way he leered, the way his pale blue eyes lingered on you. You hated his stoic face, interrupted occasionally with a shadow of a cocky smirk. You hated how he walked, proud and purposeful with his chest puffed out like a king. Even if his intentions were entirely pure, you couldn’t help but dislike him and his pompousness.

You’d overheard Emily and Timothy talking one night; they’d found a laptop in his office, and apparently there had been some interesting things on there. You had to see for yourself. You needed to find out just who this man really was. The curiosity was beginning to kill you.

So tonight, you decided, was the night you’d do some investigating. It wasn’t like you had anything better to do in those candlelit hallways, the same stale record playing on repeat. It was just after dinner, and you’d seen Ms. Venable invite Langdon for a private meeting once everyone had finished eating. This was the perfect time, but you had to be quick.

You crept through the dim hallways, holding up the edges of your impractical floor-length gown to give you as much mobility as possible. You’d taken off your shoes, so as not to alert anyone with the sound of footsteps where they shouldn’t be.

As you approached his office, you wondered what sorts of things you might find on his laptop. Even if you didn’t find anything important, you hoped you’d find something mildly interesting, if not only to ease your boredom for the moment. Your palms perspired with anticipation as you pushed open the door (you found it rather stupid that there wasn’t a lock, but you weren’t complaining) and walked inside.

The office was small and tidy, just as it had been during your interview for the compound. You shuddered just thinking of it; Langdon certainly had personal space issues, you’d noticed early on, and it had seemed like he was able to peer into the depths of your soul. It was hard not to be intimidated by the man, especially when he was irritated, and you’d managed to piss him off during the interview several times. But had he seriously expected you to divulge all sorts of personal information to a complete and total stranger? Obviously you were going to question him, which he hadn’t seemed to like.

Ever since that interview, you’d caught his gaze lingering on you a number of times, his jaw clenched but face calm and emotionless. It frightened you, though you wouldn’t admit that. You weren’t going to let that stop you from snooping through his laptop, though.

His laptop sat in the center of the desk, a perfect silver slab devoid of fingerprints or scrapes. You hadn’t actually seen a laptop since the start of the apocalypse, and your stomach jumped with excitement. As you grabbed the machine and opened it, you were flooded with memories from before the Outpost. You used to spend hours on the internet, idly watching YouTube videos and scrolling through social media. You missed those days.

Your face was lit up by the soft glow of the computer screen coming to life. Your eyes scanned the box that appeared in the middle of the screen: “Enter password”. Fuck. He must have suspected that people had went through his laptop before. You sighed, racking your brain for anything that might give you a clue to what his password might be. Before you even had the chance to start guessing, however, the door opened.

Langdon stood there looking at you, enveloped by the darkness of the hallway, expressionless at usual. His lips turned up slightly at the corners as he took a stride towards you, but you were sensible enough to understand that it wasn’t a friendly smile. Your body went cold, and you suddenly found it hard to keep your balance.

“I- I was just-“

He took two more strides and was now in front of the desk you were behind. You stared at him, eyes wide as you tried to predict what he would do next. Would he kill you? Bring you to Ms. Venable?

He cocked his head to the side. “Now, just what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was steady, but there was something insidious about it. He spoke almost playfully, seeming to enjoy the terror he was causing you.

“I was just- I haven’t seen a laptop in so long and I-“ your throat was dry as you scrambled to concoct a sound excuse, but you soon realized that there was none.

Coolly, he reached his hand forward to shut the laptop between you, before loosely wrapping it around your throat. He grinned inwardly as your breath hitched, and steadily he tightened his grip. “I’ve told you once before, (y/n). I always know when you’re lying.”

He brought his face close to yours, his breath hot against your cheek. A familiar tingling began between your legs, and you squeezed your thighs together tightly. Of all fucking times to get turned on…

“I’m not lying,” you said weakly, standing perfectly still as if the slightest motion might set the man off.

He studied your face, one eyebrow raised slightly above the other, his metal rings digging hard into your flesh as his fingers stayed firmly wrapped around your neck. Then he brought his lips to your ear, just barely brushing your skin.

“Does this arouse you?” You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine the smirk creeping across his lips as he spoke. Your stomach dropped, and the tingling evolved to a dull ache.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “No.”

He chuckled. “I know everything, (y/n). So I’ll ask again.” He moved his face back to where you could see, pale eyes meeting yours. “Are. You. Wet?”

“Fuck you,” you spat, but he only laughed.

“You are one sick bitch,” he murmured. “I could kill you right now, and all you’re thinking about is me fucking you.”

“You fucking wish.” You tried to pull away, but his grip was almost inhumanely strong. He was right though; how he knew, you weren’t sure. But you definitely were turned on by this, though you couldn’t explain why. Still, there was no way you’d let him get his way.

“(Y/n), (y/n), (y/n),” he said teasingly, his free hand tugging your hair back so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “It’s high time you learned your place here at the Outpost. I fear if I don’t teach you now, you’ll run into worse trouble in the future.”

“It’s high time you backed the fuck off,” you replied, hoping the comeback would be biting. Instead, it came out as a soft whimper. He was winning.

He let go of your throat before quickly moving around to your side of the desk in one swift motion. Immediately his hips pushed against yours and his hands groped your breasts roughly through the fabric of your dress. His teeth sunk into your bare shoulder, left hand traveling up between your breasts and back onto your throat. You yelped at the sudden jolt of pain, the edge of the desk cutting into your backside.

He pushed his knee up to meet your crotch, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. You couldn’t be sure why you were letting this happen, or why this was happening at all, but you couldn’t deny the feelings of intoxicating lust and adrenaline coursing through your body.

Before you could adjust to the new position, he grabbed your hips and roughly flipped you around, your chest pressed against the cool metal of the laptop which sat right where you’d left it. With one hand, he gathered your hands behind you to firmly hold them in place by the wrists. The other worked to hike up your floor length skirt, revealing your simple white underwear and bare upper thighs. You panted in anticipation, your cheek pressed against the cool wooden surface of the desk.

He tucked the excess fabric underneath your arms to keep it in place before running his hand over the damp fabric between your legs. He took his time, dragging his long index finger from front to back at an excruciatingly slow rate. You wriggled under his grip, but his strength kept you where he wanted you, and soon his hand slipped underneath the garment to meet your bare skin.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been touched like this; you melted under his grip, eyes rolling back into your head despite the fact that you’d hardly had anything done to you. You hated that Langdon, of all people, was the one to unravel you in this way, but how could you resist?

“As usual, I was right,” he said, bemused, slipping his index finger through your wetness lazily. He leaned forward, so you could hear him clearly as he spoke. “You’re soaked.”

“F-fuck y-“ your words were cut off with a gasp as his finger entered you without warning, immediately finding a rhythm as he began pumping in and out.

“Hm?” He inquired, quickening his pace. He added a second finger, quite pleased with himself as you let out a raspy moan you’d been trying to suppress. You hated yourself for giving him this satisfaction, but you needed this. He’d won, and you didn’t care.

His left hand, still keeping your arms securely behind you, was wrapped so tightly around your slender wrists that you were certain there’d be bruises to hide tomorrow. The fabric from your skirt began to slip down, and he pulled his fingers out of you to tuck away the skirt yet again; you whined at the sudden lack of stimulation.

“You’re so needy,” he said, his tone cocky and even. “What is it that you want, again?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you muttered, barely audible.

“Mm. Okay then.” He let your skirt fall back down over your backside, releasing his grip on your wrists.

“Please,” you said softly, voice hoarse. Tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of being left high and dry like this.

“Please what?” he said, bored.

Fucking asshole, you thought. You knew the game he was playing. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation as you prepared to let go of the last inkling of pride you still had.

“Please. I need to cum. Please, Langdon.”

“I suppose I could let you…” he said. “You’ll have to earn it.”

“What the fuck?” You started, standing up and turning to face him. Your lips were bitten red, and he smirked upon seeing your desperate state.

“Watch your mouth or I’ll bring you to Ms. Venable and tell her all about the little detective stunt you pulled.”

You scowled at him but said nothing. He looked utterly pristine, not a strand of blond hair out of place. Your mouth watered for a split second, and all at once you realized how attractive this man truly was.

He looked you over, examining your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes and prominent cleavage. And then he spoke.

“On your knees.”

You balled your fists tightly at your sides. Did he really think you were going to degrade yourself like this?

Never mind. You’d already allowed him to degrade you enough. You might as well do as you were told.

“Now.”

You swallowed, legs wobbling slightly as you looked at him with eyes as innocent and wide as a doe’s. He stared back, unresponsive, and you knew there was not going to be any negotiation. You lowered yourself to your knees grudgingly, now face-to-face with the massive bulge pushing through his black dress pants. Again, your mouth watered against your own will, and you looked up at Langdon, anxiously awaiting his next orders.

He smoothly unbuttoned his pants, maneuvering the zipper before retrieving himself from the confines of the fabric. His member was long-not really a surprise to you- and thick, flushed slightly at the tip. You reached forward to grab it, but he shook his head. Instead he took a fist full of your hair and thrust your head towards him. You opened your mouth for him, and immediately he pushed himself as far as you could handle. You gagged, but he began thrusting mercilessly all the same, his hand tugging your hair roughly as he controlled the situation at hand. He grunted, eyes shut and chin pointed to the ceiling as saliva dribbled down your chin. Even this was worsening the ache between your legs; how did he have so much power over you?

His hips bucked harder, his cock brushing the back of your throat, and you struggled to breathe through your nose. You moaned, but you were sure it was drowned out by the vulgar sounds of gagging that continuously left your throat.

“You love this, dont you?” He said, smug but breathless, another muffled choking noise leaving you as your face nearly brushed his balls. He grunted as he fucked your mouth, the occasional moan passing his lips as his eyes fluttered back into his head. It wasn’t long before he reached his other hand forward to hold your head in place as he pushed himself deeper, releasing his warm, salty fluids into your throat. He pulled out, still gripping your hair; his cock dangled limply in your face, glistening with your saliva. He yanked your hair back to look up at him, and gave you a serene smile.

“Good girl. See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

You wiped the back of your mouth and shot him a nasty glare. He tucked himself back into his pants and he looked at you expectantly, still speechless on your knees.

“Stand up,” he ordered. You did, your face flushed, and he guided you into a sitting position on the edge of his desk. Langdon hitched up your skirt before pulling your underwear to the side, two fingers entering you almost immediately. He sucked your neck, every now and then adding his teeth, which sent a jolt of pain through your body and directly between your legs.

He was clearly skilled at what he was doing; he switched between rubbing your clit and fucking you with his fingers, curling them to effortlessly hit the places you needed them most. You bucked your hips forward to meet his hand, pleasure radiating throughout your spine and legs trembling. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer, and he intensified his bites on your neck while his fingers applied slow, hard pressure onto your clit.

“Langdon,” you breathed, unable to keep your composure.

“Yes?” He said smoothly, and you knew he wanted to frustrate you. It probably made him hard to know how badly you wanted him, even despite the hatred you held towards him.

He didn’t wait for a response; instead, he repositioned his hand so his ring finger and middle finger entered you while the palm of his hand brushed against your clit with each thrust. Your muscles began to contract, and you knew what was about to happen. You furrowed your eyebrows and chewed your bottom lip, hugging your legs around his body as tightly as possible so you could feel every inch of his slender fingers. A wave of warmth washed over you, and you whined as the orgasm enveloped your body, the pleasure dissipating any inhibitions you had left.

He continued to rub your clit with his palm until he was sure you’d been satisfied properly, your legs twitching and words incoherent. Then he pulled out, letting your underwear snap back into place.

“Next time I catch you in here,” he said, adjusting himself and running a hand through his silky hair. “The consequences will be far worse.”

Satisfied, you slid off the desk, eyeing the man who had managed to seduce you into submission, unsure how to feel about the situation. You have him a coy smile, walking to the door, and then turned over your shoulder before leaving.

“Is that a promise?”


	2. Good Morning (Young!Michael Langdon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael gets his first blowjob.
> 
> includes: young!Michael, fem!reader, blowjobs, some fluff

You blinked twice, the morning sun streaming through the windows opposite your boyfriend’s bed as you awoke to the sounds of birds chirping outside. You groaned slightly, stretching your limbs, and smiled softly as you felt Michael’s strong limbs entangled with yours; you fit so perfectly against him, his chin able to rest comfortably on the top of your head as he held you close to him.

Michael loved holding you, and although he claimed it was to make you feel safe, you knew he needed to be comforted as much as you did. In his sleep, he stirred slightly, his hips gently pushing forward against your ass. Your eyes suddenly snapped open as you felt something solid there, and quickly came to the realization that he was hard.

You and Michael hadn’t done anything sexual since you’d started dating. The farthest you’d gone was making out, but he never tried to persist any further. You chalked this up to him being inexperienced, which surprised you, since he was intoxicatingly handsome and had such a way with charming you. In a way, this made you feel special: he could easily have had hundreds of girls at his disposal, and yet he chose only you.

It wasn’t strange to you that nothing sexual ever came of your sleepovers. Usually, you’d sneak in after his mother went to sleep. She was intimidating, to say the least, and you didn’t want to get on her bad side should she decide to sacrifice you for one of her Satanic rituals or something of the like. You’d usually get there around midnight, both of you exhausted from the day, and together you’d lie in each other’s arms until the sun came up. Sometimes you’d talk, and other times you’d drift off to sleep immediately, lulled into relaxation by the other’s company. Either way, you simply wanted to be near him. Of course you wanted to have sex, but it was never a problem to you if you didn’t.

Right now was the first time you could pinpoint his arousal, and it excited you to say the least. You squirmed slightly, your backside pushing harder into his growing erection, and he groaned softly, breath still heavy with sleep. You grinded your hips back onto him, feeling the bulge rise even further beneath the cotton material of his boxers.

Rolling over to face him, you paused for a moment to appreciate the beautiful work of art that was his face. His blond hair fell in a scruffy heap in front of his closed eyes, and you reached forward to run your fingers through it affectionately. He was so precious.

“Baby,” you whispered to him softly, cupping his jaw and running your thumb over his smooth, flawless skin. “Wake up.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth gently, and one eye fluttered open, a ray of sunlight falling perfectly onto his pale blue iris. His lips turned up into a lazy smile, and he pulled you closer.

“Good morning,” he said groggily, kissing your forehead. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said, placing a kiss on his neck and then his chest. Cautiously, you reached one hand down to lightly grope his bulge, watching him closely to see his reaction. His muscles tensed and he looked at you with wide eyes, but he didn’t move away.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked him. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

He swallowed audibly and shook his head, and you noticed the growing redness across his cheeks. You smiled, kissing him again, hoping this would calm him down as you rubbed him through his boxers and eventually wrapped your fingers around his clothed dick. You could already tell that his length was massive, and your heart rate increased in anticipation. He gasped, hand flying to his mouth to silence himself as he realized his mother might be awake, and his eyes fluttered shut.

You began working his boxers down, pulling his blue bedsheets around his hips so you could have a good view of him. His dick was long and thick, nearly brushing his stomach in its hardness, and you chewed your bottom lip as you began stroking him slowly, your touch tender so as not to overwhelm him. He whined, jutting his hips up to meet your hand, and your pace sped up slightly as you slid your hand from his balls all the way to the tip.

“(Y/n),” he mumbled, gripping the headboard behind him with his right hand, brows furrowed as he concentrated on this newfound pleasure.

“Shh, baby, just relax,” you said soothingly, positioning yourself horizontally on your stomach. You swirled your tongue rhythmically around the head of his cock, moaning at the taste of him, your fist still wrapped around him. He hissed as your mouth touched him, bucking himself upwards involuntarily, and you slid him deeper into your mouth.

He whined, your warm tongue gliding along his shaft, hoping to coat every part of him in your saliva. You twisted your hand slightly, adding friction to his sensitive skin, pushing your head down further to meet your hand. Then you pulled away your hand, placing it on his firm lower stomach before taking him as far into your mouth as you could manage. This earned a hitched grunt from him, his face screwed up as he struggled to process the intense sensations coursing through him. His hands grabbed blindly for you, one entangling in your (h/c) hair and tugging slightly.

“Sorry,” he said shakily, realizing he might have caused you discomfort by pulling your hair, but you just smiled at him as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock, gagging every now and then as you challenged yourself to take him deeper. “Oh god,” he breathed, and you removed his hand from your hair in favor of holding it instead, squeezing his palm as you dipped your head down to feel him brush the back of your throat.

Adding a bit of suction with your mouth, he squirmed harder, his hand gripping yours like his life might depend on it, and you felt his cock twitch as his pelvis rose up to press against you. “I’m- I-“ he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, his chest rising and falling rapidly, left hand flying from the headboard to his forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed there.

You hummed against him, tongue rolling along his skin and massaging his stiff, but smooth skin. You took all of him in your mouth one last time, tears springing in your eyes, and with a soft cry, he came. You swallowed it all, not wanting him to make a mess, and took him out of your mouth slowly, wiping the back of your mouth with satisfaction. You crawled back up to lie beside him, his eyes still shut as he recovered from his orgasm, and you kissed his jaw lovingly.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear, nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder and reveling in his scent.

“I- I love you too. That was amazing. Thank you,” he said hoarsely, and you giggled; you weren’t sure why, just something about how sweet and gentle your boyfriend was made you uncontrollably happy.

Pulling the sheets over the two of you and curling into him, ready to go back to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel completely and totally content with your life.


	3. First Times (Young!Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael gives oral for the first time, and also loses his virginity.
> 
> includes: fem!Reader, young!Michael Langdon, loss of virginity, intercourse, cunnilingus, fluff

It always surprised you that you were the only girl Michael Langdon had ever kissed. He seemed to possess such expertise when he kissed you, his strong arms wrapping protectively around your waist as his lips coaxed yours apart to caress your tongue with his.

This was your happy place, your lips against his. You could lie with him for hours, making out like a couple of horny teenagers, and feel completely and totally satisfied.

It felt so natural to you, running your fingers through his soft hair or cupping his perfect face, the two of you making sure not to make any noise as you melted into one another- his mother would never approve of your late night meetups. It was almost every night you’d visit him, usually after a stressful day of work, your hair in disarray and face devoid of makeup as you would crawl into Michael’s bed and between his arms.

Tonight was no different. You’d gotten to his house around two in the morning, and had immediately fallen into him the second he brought you to his room. This was what you thought about all day as you worked hour after shitty hour- embracing your boyfriend and feeling his warmth surround you like a blanket of safety. When you were around Michael, you were indestructible; he would never allow anything or anyone to hurt you.

You smiled inwardly as Michael deepened his kiss with you, his hands trailing up and down your hips aimlessly. You took him by his hands and gently guided them up to your breasts, knowing that sometimes he needed to be shown what to do. He was far less experienced than you- you’d been his first kiss, after all, and the farthest you’d gone with him was a blowjob. All you wanted to do was make him feel good, but of course you were going to respect his boundaries.

His palms pressed into your breasts, and he froze momentarily before beginning to massage them through your t-shirt and sports bra. You whined slightly against his lips, a jolt of excitement bursting through you as he pushed you back into his bed and crawled on top of you.

“Michael,” you said, and he kissed you before propping himself up on either side of you, his mop of disheveled blond hair falling into your face as he looked at you with his pale blue eyes.

“I- I think I’m ready, (y/n),” he said, and you could sense the nerves behind his wavering voice as he spoke. You widened your eyes, and he looked at you with furrowed brows, his mouth pulled into a straight, serious line. He seemed as though he’d made up his mind, and you giggled good-naturedly at the adorable determination in his sweet face.

“You sure?” you asked him, craning your neck to give him a soft peck on his cheek. He nodded, and you pulled his hips down to grind against yours.

He brought himself into a sitting position, his knees resting on either side of your hips as he tugged off his t-shirt and tossed it to the side. You reveled in his figure appreciatively, mouth watering as your eyes wandered over his sculpted, smooth torso. He wasn’t too buff, but he was certainly in shape, and you couldn’t help but reach out and teasingly drag a finger down his stomach and onto his pelvis, before toying with the elastic waistband of his sweatpants.

“You’re so beautiful,” you muttered to yourself, regarding your boyfriend in awe as it dawned on you how perfect he was. You’d already known, of course, but the situation at hand only intensified your attraction towards him. You allowed him to tug off your top, leaving you only in a gray sports bra, which you probably wouldn’t have worn had you known that you’d be taking your boyfriend’s virginity tonight.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said shyly. “To thank you for the other morning.”

You grinned, knowing immediately what he was referring to, and you pulled your leggings down slightly, exposing your hipbones and the top of your boxer briefs. He reached between his knees to pull them further down your legs, letting you pull yourself out from underneath him to finish taking them off yourself.

Repositioning yourself amongst his pillows, you beckoned him towards you, immediately groaning as you felt his bare upper body against yours. He took a few moments to plant soft kisses along your neck, pausing to remove your bra and trail more kisses down between them. Reaching your stomach, he kissed beneath your navel, causing your skin to erupt with goosebumps.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said, tracing his fingers along your underwear.

“I would assume so,” you laughed, before reaching down to stroke his soft hair. “You’ll do fine, baby. I’ll help you.”

He gave you a soft smile, and all at once your heart nearly exploded with love for your boyfriend. How had you gotten so lucky? He cared so deeply about you, and only ever wanted the very best for you. He was gentle, he was kind. You’d never in your life wanted someone more than you wanted Michael, and the dampness between your thighs increased as your body prepared for what was about to happen.

He worked your underwear down your thighs before dropping it off the side of the bed. Then he crawled up between them, wrapping his arms around your mid-thighs, his face now only inches away from your wetness.

You pet his hair comfortingly, hair standing on end as you anticipated Michael’s touch where you craved it most. Then he ran his tongue up between your slick folds, so slow you almost cried out with desperation, tugging at his scalp by a fist full of his beautiful hair.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, eyes closing as he swirled his tongue over your outer lips before dipping it back inside your entrance. You squirmed against his mouth, breath hitching as he explored the foreign territory of you. How was he this good? Surely, this couldn’t be his first time-

“Fuck,” you exclaimed as he wrapped his lips around your clit, your hand flying to your mouth to bite the heel of your palm, stifling any other loud noises threatening to pass your lips.

“Shhh,” he hummed against your most sensitive area, sending waves of intense pleasure through you and bringing tears to your eyes as you struggled not to make any noise. He brought his mouth away from your clit to drag his tongue down your center, finishing at your clit again and lapping at it lazily.

“Fuck, Michael, you’re so good. You’re doing such a good job,” you breathed, your words barely audible through the series of pants and whines escaping your lips.

This seemed to encourage him, and before long his tongue was buried inside you, his face nestled between your legs as he worked to grace every inch of your core with his tongue. Both of your hands were on the back of his head now, and you tried your best not to pull his hair too hard as you ground desperately against him.

“Please, oh my god,” you groaned, and you knew that if Michael’s mother were to overhear any of this, you would both be done for. Still, you were hardly able to contain yourself; the pleasure enveloping you was far too intense for you to focus on anything else.

Michael attached his swollen lips around your clit again, pulling one hand away from your sweaty thigh to slide two fingers inside you. Within seconds, you were clenching around him, the coil in your stomach beginning to unwind itself as he thrust his fingers in and out of you.

“I’m-“ was all you were able to manage before you came, his mouth still working on you as the waves of your orgasm crashed around your body and numbed your senses. He pulled away, kissing the insides of your thighs and then bringing himself up to kiss your neck.

“Did I do a good job?” he asked, only half-earnestly as it had been quite obvious that you’d enjoyed it.

“What do you think?” you said playfully, lifting his head from the crook of your neck so you could look into his eyes. “Are you sure that was first time going down on a girl?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he mumbled, hanging his head forward to suck your right nipple lazily. You whined as he nipped lightly at the tender skin, your hand traveling between his legs to grasp his bulge. He was fully erect, and you bit your bottom lip as you palmed over his sizable length.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered, and you could see the slight blush that began to travel across his cheeks. You pushed his sweatpants down, urging him to pull them off entirely and toss them to the side, and immediately you wrapped your fingers around his length.

“(Y/n),” he whimpered, voice cracking, and you grazed his back with the fingernails of your free hand whilst repeating comforting words to him.

“Just relax,” you cooed, kissing his shoulder between breaths. “You’re going to be okay. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“I want you so bad, (y/n),” he said, and you began steadily guiding his cock to your entrance.

You pushed the head of his dick into your opening, moving your hand from between his legs to his muscular back. Then you pulled him towards you, his hips instinctively pushing forward in a slow thrust as he filled you. He let out a low hiss, feeling your warm walls around him, and within seconds he’d committed to a careful rhythm. You rolled your hips up against him, wanting to take as much of him as you could, moaning quietly each time you felt him go deeper.

“Michael,” you sighed, nails digging into his ass as you bucked your hips to meet his thrusts. This was so perfect, as perfect as you’d imagined, the two of you finally becoming one. You couldn’t help but be greedy with him, pulling him as close to you as physically possible, basking in the orgasmic feel of his body against yours.

He continued, sliding himself in and out of you with ease, your wetness allowing him to glide smoothly. He was a bit unsure at first, but you could feel his confidence grow as his thrusts became more purposeful, evoking several cries of pleasure from you, which you tried to muffle by hiding your face in his shoulder.

“(Y/n), I’m close,” he muttered, voice raspy, and you reached up to tuck his hair behind his ears. You wanted to see his beautiful face as it contorted with pleasure, see him as he released inside you.

“Keep going, baby, you’re doing great,” you murmured, it becoming harder and harder to form coherent sentences as his thrusts grew sloppier and rougher. You wrapped your legs around him, eyes rolling back as he drove his cock as deep as it would go, your hips circling slightly so you could feel every inch of his length.

“(Y/n),” he grunted, and you felt his shaft twitch before his warmth flooded inside you. You opened your eyes to watch him, his jaw unhinging as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, face flushed as he became overwhelmed. He looked so perfect in that moment, and your stomach dropped as you prepared to release for a second time that evening. This orgasm was strong, even stronger than the one he’d given you before, and you held him tightly to your chest as you let the feelings of ecstasy completely encompass you.

The two of you laid there for a moment, still intertwined as you found your bearings. Then you were cuddling, like usual, his chin resting on your head as your petite frame curved to fit against his taller one, neither of you minding the sweat that had built up between the both of you.

“I love you, (y/n),” he said, and you could feel the truth in his words, his heartbeat loud in your ears.

“I love you too, Michael.”

You meant it, and in that moment, lying in this beautiful boy’s bed in the dead of night, you knew that there was no place on earth you would rather be.


	4. Cleanse My Sins (Sojourn!Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you meet a disheveled michael langdon at a satanic congregation and feel compelled to invite him back to your house for some food and a shower, but that isn’t the only thing that ends up happening.
> 
> includes: Michael in the episode "Sojourn", fem!Reader, shower sex, sexual intercourse, blowjobs

You could tell he was different from the second you saw him. He was unkempt, five o’ clock shadow apparent along the edges of his skinny face. His blond hair, which you could tell would be beautiful if styled and washed, fell around his eyes in a stringy heap. You looked at him curiously as he stumbled between the back pews, his eyes fixated on the woman in red who paced back and forth as she spoke to the small crowd.

He dropped himself into a pew- into your pew, in fact, and you jumped, startled slightly by his sudden movements. He did not move his eyes from the woman, and you thought maybe you could see tears on his cheeks, glinting under the reddish lighting of the room.

Now that he was closer to you, you realized he was even more of a mess than you’d originally thought. His face was sunken, tired. His bloodshot eyes were shadowed with purple rings, and his clothes were caked with dirt- in fact, most of him was coated with a thin layer of grime. What was this guy’s deal? What was he doing at a Satanic congregation?

The woman next to you passed you the wooden donation bowl, and you dropped a couple of crumpled dollars from your pocket into it before handing it over to the mysterious man, who appeared to be wiping his tears away with the back of his filthy sleeve. He looked at you, crossing his arms over his stomach.

“I don’t have any money right now,” he said evenly, his voice raspy.

“Or any food, from the looks of it,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows in concern. “How long has it been since you ate?”

He sighed audibly, not meeting your gaze. “What’s it to you?”

“Just trying to help out a fellow believer,” you said. He looked fairly young, maybe his early twenties, about your age. He was handsome, too, underneath all the dirt.

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was waiting for you to say something else. You considered your options for a second; you knew nothing about this strange man, but you felt compelled to help him. He looked as if he’d been to hell and back (though to you, that sounded like a good time), and he seemed fragile, like he might break at any moment.

“You know,” you started, and finally he turned to you, a glint of something hopeful in his sleepy eyes. “After this service, I could fix you something. My place is only a couple blocks from here.”

He stared at you for a minute, and then spoke, his words choked up as he stifled back tears. “That’s actually really nice of you.”

He seemed vulnerable, but there was an underlying vibration you got from him that you couldn’t quite place. It was obvious he needed an act of kindness right now, but you were sure he wasn’t weak.

“What can I say?” you started playfully. “Nobody’s perfect.”

He smiled, and his chest rose and fell in a smooth motion, indicating a half-hearted chuckle. You laughed too, a grin crossing your face, pleased with yourself for being able to make him laugh.

When the service ended, the two of you headed out of the shady building and into the streets. He walked slowly, and you had to take tiny steps to stay beside him despite your legs being a great deal shorter than his. He seemed fatigued, so you didn’t rush him, instead striking up a somewhat awkward conversation.

“So what’s your name?” you asked him, your floor-length black skirt dragging slightly on the concrete.

“Michael,” he said quietly, his eyes fixated down at his dress shoes. “And you?”

“(Y/n),” you said.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to be at a place like that,” he said, the fragments of a smile working at the corners of his mouth.

You raised your eyebrows. “Someone like me?”

He shrugged. “You know. A young girl.”

“It isn’t just old people and men who are Satan worshipers, you know. Anyone can worship Satan. I just happened to get started a little early.”

“Fair enough,” he said, nodding, wavy blond hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it away.

“So what’s your story?” you asked, stopping at a corner and checking both ways before continuing. “How’d you end up here?”

You heard him swallow, and then he spoke. “My father abandoned me.” He laughed humorlessly, a grimace disguised as a smile crossing his face. “And my mother tried to kill me.”

“Humanity is shit,” you said bitterly, a pang of sadness for the man spreading through you. You decided not to ask him anything more- not why he was crying earlier, or why he was so dirty, or why he looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. You didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he probably did already.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered.

Nearing the street where your house was located, you continued walking, hurrying your pace and hoping he would follow suit. “Everyone is shit. Even me. And you. Realizing how shitty this world is, is what made me become a Satanist.”

He didn’t say anything, only continued walking a few paces behind you.

“Satanism is all about satisfying your own urges and doing whatever the fuck you want,” you explained. “It sure fucking beats the abstinence bullshit that Christianity pushes.”

“I’m pretty familiar with Satanism, actually,” he said. “Someone very close to me is… associated with it, you could say.”

“Have you sold your soul?” you asked, gesturing to the stone steps that led to your front door.

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Have you?”

“Well, duh,” you said, pulling your key from your pocket and unlocking the front door. “How else do you think I can afford my own house in this economy?”

A smirk crept across his lips, blue eyes glinting, and you pushed open the door. “What, did you sign a contract in blood?”

You rolled your eyes, starting up the stairs to the top floor with him hot on your heels. “Believe me or don’t, but how many other twenty-somethings do you know with their own house and no student loans?”

Reaching the top of the stairs, you turned on the light and gave him a good look. Resting your chin on your fist, you frowned slightly. “Yeah, no offense, but before you sit down anywhere, I’m gonna need you to take a shower. I’ll wash your clothes for you. I’m sure I have something you can wear.”

“Thank you,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. You had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t been subjected to basic kindness in a long time. You brought him to the bathroom, pointing him towards the glass-paneled shower.

“You can use my shampoo if you want. I hope you like the smell of Strawberry Coconut Breeze,” you said cheekily, before heading to your room.

Rifling through your closet, you came upon an oversized men’s flannel, one that you loved to wear to bed when it was particularly cold outside. It was a medium, which you assumed would fit his slender frame, and so you tossed it onto the bed and continued your search for a pair of pants. Next you grabbed a pair of flannel sleep pants, a different pattern than the shirt, and examined the silk tag inside them which bore the size. They were big enough that you thought they’d maybe fit him, and upon examining the rest of your wardrobe you decided that they were the best you were going to get.

Grabbing the clothes, you headed back to the bathroom. From outside the door, you could hear the shower going, and upon listening a little closer, you could just barely make out the sound of a soft, tuneless hum.

You knocked on the door gingerly, all at once very nervous for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“Come in,” came Michael’s smooth voice, muffled by the sound of water pelting against the shower floor. You opened the door, gripping the clothing to your chest, and entered the room, air thick with steam and humidity.

The glass door of the shower slid open, just far enough so he could stick his head out, and you placed the heap of fabric down on the marble sink. His light hair had darkened significantly under the stream, wet strands over his forehead accented with beads of water. He looked at you in a way you could only describe as alluring, his pale eyes flickering mischievously as a slight flush of pink crossed your cheeks.

“Thanks,” he said.

“They’re, uh, my clothes. Obviously. But they’ll probably fit you.”

He pulled open the shower door further, and you winced at the harsh squeaking sound it made. You could see most of his upper body now, smooth torso and firm arms, and you stood frozen in place, your eyes wide.

“Come here,” he said, and you complied, possibly against your better judgement. He slid the door all the way open, turning towards you, and you nervously met his gaze to stop yourself from looking… elsewhere.

The water spouting from the showerhead fell across his body and onto the floor, but you could hardly bring yourself to care. He nodded at you once, as if to allow your eyes permission to wander, and immediately you looked down.

You gaped slightly at the sight of his cock, semi-erect between his legs. The shaft was thick, the surface of which had several protruding veins. It was long, too- it’d probably hurt a little inside you, but your mouth watered and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your fingers around it.

“Submit to your desires,” he said calmly, sliding his left hand up and down his length. “Do you want me?”

You nodded timidly, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tried to make sense of the situation. The aching sensation between your legs was too strong to ignore, but was this a wise decision?

You stepped out of your skirt, lifting your head to make eye contact with Michael once again. His eyes were piercing, seductive; your hands trembled as you pulled your long-sleeved shirt over your head, leaving you only in your bra and underwear.

How had this interaction gone from something so innocent, to something so… not? He’d managed to get you out of your clothes with only a few select words, and you couldn’t understand your sudden weakness. Usually, people were never able to break you down like this, but this man was different. You’d known it from the beginning.

“I can tell just by looking at you that right now, your main desire in life is to be fucked good,” he said, voice deepening as he pumped his fist up and down his cock with a firm grip. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

You chewed your lip, cheeks burning. “Yes, I am.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to get in the shower with me, won’t you?”

He brought both his hands to his sides, cock fully hard now and brushing against his stomach. You unclipped your bra cautiously and let it drop to the floor, next moving on to your thin lace underwear and working it off. You felt your skin grow warmer under Michael’s greedy stare, your body now completely exposed. Then you reached forward and took his extended hand, allowing him to help you into the shower with him.

Immediately after you slid the shower door shut, isolating the two of you in the warmth of the hot water, he pulled you against him. From the soft whine that escaped his lips as your skin brushed his, you could tell he hadn’t been touched in a long time.

“When’s the last time you were with someone?” you asked him, reaching between his legs and running your fingers teasingly along his length. He groaned in response, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Turn around,” you whispered. “Let me wash your hair.”

He obliged, and you grabbed your hot pink bottle of shampoo from the ledge where the rest of your soap was. You poured some into your hand, nostrils immediately infiltrated with the cheery scent of sweet fruit, and lathered it between your hands.

“You have beautiful hair,” you said, running your fingers through it, massaging his scalp gently and working the shampoo downwards. You turned him around to face you again, fingers still working the product in as you kissed him hungrily.

He pulled away from the kiss to tilt his head back under the stream, lifting his hands to his head to work the shampoo out of his mess of blond waves.

“Touch me,” he whimpered, shampoo running down his forehead and making valleys through the dirt. You could almost feel the desperation in his voice, tangible enough to reach out and touch you.

You ran your palms along his torso, slightly concaved as he seemed to be malnourished. With each touch of your hand against his skin, he reacted, his shoulders rolling back and muscles rippling as you dragged your fingers across his pelvis. You lowered yourself to your knees, face to face with his cock; teasingly, you kissed the tip, just enough to send a shiver up his spine in anticipation of your mouth.

He groaned, a hand grasping for your hair and gripping it tightly as you began swirling your warm tongue across him, starting at the tip and working your way towards the thick shaft. You wrapped your fingers loosely around the base, bringing your head forward to take the rest of him; he hissed, applying an involuntary yank to your hair, sending a minor jolt of pain through your scalp.

“Please,” he said- or begged, it seemed, his hips bucking forward slightly. You dropped your hand to your side, instead repositioning it to rub your clit. Then you took him further, gagging quietly as tears pooled in the corners of your eyes and traveled down your cheeks, immediately washed away by the stream of water falling from the showerhead.

His voice had lowered to a growl the choked noises of pleasure passing his lips nothing short of animalistic. He craved this, needed this, and you were more than happy to deliver.

He grunted, pushing himself deeper to brush the back of your throat, and you ignored the saliva that began dripping down your chin and onto the shower floor. Sliding a finger inside yourself, you rocked your hips while you bobbed your head up and down, curling them upwards to hit the deepest points only you knew about.

He jerked his hips forward again and you hummed softly around him, running your tongue hard along the circumference of his shaft while focusing carefully on breathing through your nose.

His voice cracked as he let out a guttural moan and you pulled him out of you, a glistening strand of spit stretching between his cock and your mouth before breaking.

He let out a discontented sob upon the lack of contact, and you stood up to face the beautiful boy again. Reaching down and stroking his length gently, you kissed him softly before speaking.

“Fuck me.”

And he did; he hardly hesitated before pushing you up against the wall, your hot cheek resting gratefully against the cool tile as he lifted one of your legs up to rest on a protruding ledge. His actions were rough and needy; he hooked one arm around your waist firmly, holding you in place, and stretched out the other to rest his hand next to yours.

He ran his cock along your entrance, coating the head in your wetness, before plunging it inside you. It took a few moments to get used to, your jaw unhinging as his massive size stretched you out, but it didn’t take long for Michael to start thrusting, deciding on a fast-paced rhythm.

“That’s it,” he murmured into your ear, before biting the side of your neck. “Take me. Submit to your carnal desires.”

You, on the other hand, were utterly speechless, unable to do much more than let out hitched whimpers of pleasure as he thrust himself into you over and over. Your breasts were pressed almost painfully flat against the wall as the force of his hips pushed you against it.

He removed one hand from the wall and snaked it beneath your raised leg, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it with his fingers. He continued this as he thrusted upwards, going deeper than any other man had ever managed, flooding your body with such raw, intense pleasure that your eyes rolled back into your head.

“F-fuck,” you breathed, hardly audible over the vulgar slapping noises of your bodies connecting and his own moans.

Your body felt like it was on fire, the hot water cascading over your sweaty bodies as your vision blurred in front of you. His fingers began working at your clit more rapidly and his thrusts grew sloppier and needier, his strong arm around your waist continuing to keep you still. You were grateful for that, because you were sure your legs would give out underneath you otherwise.

You felt his cock twitch inside you and you cried out, your voice raspy and low. The second you felt him release his load inside you, you came, limbs trembling weakly as you saw sparkling fireworks before your eyes in red and blue and green. You shook under his grasp, listening to him yell out, and he waited a few seconds before pulling himself out of you.

The two of you stood there for a moment, entranced in each other’s warmth as you both panted, struggling to catch your breaths. Finally he turned you around, immediately pulling you against his chest and holding you there. You could hear his heart hammering within the confines of his ribcage as he kissed the top of your head affectionately.

“You have no idea how badly I needed that,” he told you.

You smiled against him, enjoying his touch as he stroked your back tenderly, and you thought

I had no idea how badly I needed that, either.


	5. Tempted (Hawthorne!Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael langdon won’t allow anything to distract him from his studies. or at least that’s what he tells himself.
> 
> includes: fem!Reader, Hawthorne!Michael, rough sex, sexual intercourse, dirty talk, masturbation, thigh riding, choking, dom!Michael

“I’m bored.”

You pouted at your boyfriend from the doorway to his bedroom, watching him scribble something down in a notebook, hunched diligently over his scattered desk. To your annoyance, he barely looked up when he replied.

“I’m studying,” said Michael dismissively, blue eyes flashing in your direction briefly. Just the sight of his defined jaw, peeking out from behind his soft waves of golden hair, was enough to make your mouth water.

You frowned. “You’ve been working for hours.”

He only grunted, mouthing something to himself absentmindedly as he scanned his textbook page. For a second he chewed his lip, deep in thought, and soon after you found yourself doing the same, mind racing as you thought of all the things you wanted done to you right now.

Michael always did this; he was always so serious about his studies, and as much as you admired his extensive magical knowledge, you had to admit it was a bit of a drag sometimes- especially when you were in the mood. You sighed dramatically, dragging your toe on the ground behind you, but he didn’t react.

“Mikey,” you said, lips twitching. He hated that nickname.

“(Y/n),” he said impatiently, copying something down onto his notebook page.

“Can I at least see what you’re doing?”

He put his pen down, finally turning his head to face you. “If I let you, will you let me finish my work in peace?”

You nodded with wide eyes, though that was hardly your plan at all. You walked over to him quickly, just in case he might change his mind, and sat down on the edge of his knee. Right away, he slid an arm around your waist and leaned over to kiss your shoulder, which only partially redeemed him for being so dismissive with you.

“What’s this?” you said, feigning interest as you adjusted yourself, legs on either side of his knee as you leaned over to look at his textbook. Since you wore a skirt, and a short one at that, the only thing between his knee and your crotch was the thin lace panties you had on. You wiggled a little, applying pressure onto him as discretely as you could.

“Transmutation chapter,” he said, hand carressing your hip gently. You ground your hips down again, a little gasp leaving your mouth at the friction of the fabrics rubbing you. You didn’t look at his face, only the dull textbook page, so you couldn’t be sure if he’d noticed yet.

“You already know how to do this. Why are you studying?” You settled your weight so that his knee dug hard into your core, increasing the ache and making you bring a hand to your lips to stifle a moan.

“I want to be sure I know absolutely everything,” he said. You rocked yourself forward just as he bounced his knee upwards suddenly, and you cried out.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice you rubbing yourself all over me?” he said, and you turned to look at him with a sheepish grin. His face was stern, but from the glint in his pale eyes you could tell he didn’t mind too much. “Stop misbehaving. I told you, I need to get my work done.”

You nearly moaned at those words alone. He knew you loved when he spoke like that, dominant and authoritative. You shifted your weight forward again, feeling the lace of the panties against your clit along with the firmness of Michael’s smooth thigh. He placed a hand on either side of your waist and eased you off him, much to your disappointment, and you turned around to shoot him a glare.

“We’ll have plenty of time to play later, angel,” he said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. Your heart warmed as he placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand, but you still weren’t ready to give up.

“Fine,” you griped. “But I’m staying here.”

“As long as you don’t distract me,” he said, turning back to his book. You almost felt the urge to stick your tongue out at him, a dejected little girl. You made your way to his bed, which he had his back to; you flopped down on it loudly, making sure he could hear the springs squeaking noisily so he’d know where you were.

You laid there a few seconds, staring up at the ceiling while you considered your options. The throbbing from between your legs still hadn’t gone away; in fact, it had only gotten worse. You glanced over at Michael, licking your lips at his beautiful curls, imagining them bunched up between your fists.

Then you eased off your skirt, letting it drop to the floor with a soft thud. Next was your top, a plain white button-up, which you quickly removed and tossed beside the skirt. Now you were only in your matching bra and panties- blood red, Michael’s favorite color.

You sighed audibly, shifting yourself up to lie amongst his pillows. They smelled like him, the subtle sandalwood and pine from his cologne mixed with the fresh scent of his shampoo: your favorite scent ever since you’d met him. You groped one breast roughly, pinching at your nipple through the fabric and letting out a hitched breath.

You brought your other hand to your mouth, sucking your fingers and removing them from your mouth with a loud, hopefully jarring, pop. You looked over at Michael and saw that he’d paused what he was doing.

You smirked, dragging your moist fingers down your stomach and along your pelvis, finally slipping them beneath your flimsy undergarments. You slid your fingers along your folds, spreading your outer lips slightly and dipping in your middle finger. You whimpered softly, one finger slipping inside yourself as your other hand continued to massage your breast.

Again, at the sound of your voice, Michael tensed; his head raised slightly and you expected him to turn, but he didn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat and returned to his work. His will was way too strong for your liking.

You needed to turn things up a little.

Slipping your fingers out of yourself and finding your clit, you let out a near-pornographic moan. Your fingers circled your clit gently and you let out another one, this time even louder. You were exaggerating, of course (who even really moans like that in real life?, you’d always think whenever you found yourself watching porn) but all that mattered was getting Michael’s attention.

“Fuck,” you muttered, loud enough for him to hear, returning your fingers to slip past your entrance.

You saw him go to turn around, but right before he did, he stopped himself. Your gaze followed his strong upper body as it adjusted back to his original position, and you rolled your eyes.

Increasing the speed of your fingers, you let out desperate gasps, hips rocking rapidly against them. You parted your fingers slightly, stretching out your walls, and with your other hand you pulled down the cups of your bra to free your hardened nipples.

“Michael,” you whined breathlessly, and as expected, it did the trick. Michael turned around, and you threw your head back into the pillows with a dramatic flourish.

You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, hand still buried between your thighs. His eyes wandered over you hungrily, clenching his jaw as he looked. He was annoyed, you could tell. But you also knew that you’d won.

“(Y/n),” he said, standing and walking over to the side of his bed where you lay. You continued touching yourself, now meeting his eyes with a faux-innocent expression on your face. Even despite your best efforts, though, you couldn’t help the sly smile that crept across your lips. “Did I not just ask you, very clearly, not to disrupt me?”

You pulled your fingers from yourself, presenting your hand to Michael. Your fingers were slick with juices, glinting under the soft light of his bedroom. Then you ran your fingers along your lower lip, coating it generously in your own wetness, before sliding your fingers over your tongue.

You made a show of this, wrapping your lips around them and sucking, making sure not to break eye contact with the beautiful blond boy. A simple glimpse downwards told you that he was enjoying your little performance despite his straight face.

You watched him as he casually slipped off his black uniform jacket, leaving him only in his white button-up with that stupidly cute black ribbon around his neck. He folded it neatly, hanging it over the edge of his desk chair, before returning his attention to you.

“As much as I love that color on you, (y/n),” he said calmly, but you could sense the annoyance in his voice. “I want it off.”

You happily complied, pulling your bra off over your head, too eager to fiddle with the hooks. Then came the underwear, leaving you fully naked under his hungry stare. You didn’t mind it, though; you felt a little vulnerable fully undressed, but something about the way Michael looked at you, with such vivid passion and lust in his dilated eyes, made all those anxieties melt away. He made you feel so beautiful, wanted.

By the time you’d removed the garments, Michael had unbuttoned his shirt, laying it over the jacket on the edge of his chair. You reached for your clit, practically salivating as you regarded his beautiful upper body, toned and smooth and firm.

“No touching,” he ordered, and you placed your hand on your stomach, anticipation rising.

He unbuckled his belt, taking his time, which you assumed was intentional in order to frustrate you. You supposed you deserved it, though, since you had purposely gone out of your way to annoy him, after all. When he pulled it off, he leveled it in his hands and looked at you.

“I have half a mind to bend you over that desk and hit you with this until you can’t sit down for a fucking week,” he said.

You moaned, his vile words only increasing your arousal.

“I’m too lenient with you,” he said irritably, placing his belt on the seat of his chair. “You’re spoiled.”

You shook your head, waiting for him to remove his expensive shoes and equally expensive pants. Once he did, you surveyed the massive bulge protruding from his white boxers, and worried you might leak onto his nice sheets. Finally he peeled off the last layer, allowing his hard cock to spring free. You reached out eagerly to grab it, but he caught your wrist and brought it back down to your sides.

He climbed onto the bed, causing you to dip slightly downward, and he knelt between your legs to look at you. You smiled up at him, enjoying how powerless you felt beneath his towering frame, and gasped excitedly when he lunged forward to grip your wrists and hold them above your head. You squirmed slightly, his free hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing.

For a minute he just observed you, submissive under his grasp. His lips curved upwards in a satisfied smirk as he leaned forward to speak to you.

“You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down, too worked up to formulate any sort of coherent string of words.

“Tell me,” he growled, tightening his grip on your neck.

“I-I’m a needy slut,” you managed, voice raspy. He seemed pleased, but you knew he would press on anyway.

“Whose needy slut are you?” he asked, breath hot on your face, and you shut your eyes as a moan spilled over your bitten red lips. Again, he choked you harder. “Answer me.”

“Y-yours,” you breathed.

He didn’t seem satisfied; pinning your wrists harder above you, pressing you hard into the mattress, he shifted himself to overtake you. “You’re my what?”

“I’m y-your needy slut,” you said, struggling to breathe but loving every second of it. “Michael.”

“You couldn’t even wait for me to fuck you,” he continued, removing his hand from your throat and instead using it to brace himself as he aligned the head of his dick with your entrance. “Touching yourself on my bed and moaning like a slut.”

He entered you only partially, making you let out a pleading moan. “You don’t even deserve to have me fuck you right now after the way you’ve behaved.” He hissed as he slid deeper inside, holding you still.

He pulled himself out before thrusting himself all the way back inside and you cried out, eyes watering at the fullness. You couldn’t help but call his name with each hard, ruthless thrust, unable to grasp at his curls or dig your nails into his back as he held your hands above you.

“You’re so loud,” he murmured, mid thrust. “You want everyone else to hear you? Want them to know how good I’m fucking you?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he pounded inside you; he let out a few grunts of his own, brows furrowed as he focused carefully on the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him.

He paused, pulling himself from you momentarily before lifting your legs up to rest over his toned shoulders. Then, effortlessly, he entered you again, your wetness making it impossibly easy to return to his hard pounding. Your legs raised now, he was able to fuck you even deeper, focusing all his weight onto his hips so that his cock could brush the spongey walls deep inside you.

He held your wrists so tightly you were sure there would be bruises by tomorrow; you didn’t mind, though. You liked when he marked you, made you his.

You screamed out, entirely powerless as he fucked you into the mattress exactly like you’d hoped he would. The room was filled with vulgar slapping noises, your bodies connecting over and over, but somehow you weren’t worried about anyone hearing, too overtaken with ecstasy.

“Michael,” you cried, vision blurring as the familiar hollow feeling made itself known in the pit of your stomach.

“Look at me,” he said between pants, and you did, (e/c) eyes meeting hooded blue ones.

It didn’t take much more for you to come; he almost completely pulled out before impaling you once more, eyes rolling back into your head as he slammed against your innermost walls. You unraveled, every limb vibrating as the orgasm overtook you, your hot skin prickling with goosebumps. Next came his orgasm, groaning while he emptied himself inside you.

He released your wrists and you pulled him close to you, kissing him hard as if to thank him. He threw himself down beside you, rolling onto his side to embrace you against his chest, chin resting on the top of your head. You snuggled into him, humming inquisitively when you heard him laugh to himself.

“You’re really a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You just smiled, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of Michael Langdon.


	6. The Eighth Wonder (Hawthorne!Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> michael langdon is dangerously close to becoming the first ever male supreme, but it looks like he has competition. good thing michael likes a challenge.
> 
> includes: fem!Reader, hawthorne!michael, cocky michael, rough(ish) sex, fingering, choking, hate sex (kind of?), y/n and michael both have their dom moments lmao

“Hold up. You’re telling me that a warlock might possibly take over as our new supreme? As in, a man?” The witch who had spoken seemed beside herself, as did the rest of the coven, staring dumbfounded at Cordelia who stood at the head of the dining table. The supreme was composed as usual, hands folded neatly in front of her stomach, but even beyond her calm demeanor it was easy to tell that she was nervous. She bowed her head solemnly, pressing her lips together in thought.

“I’m afraid so,” she said. She almost looked as though she’d aged ten years overnight; her blond hair fell lifelessly around her sallow face, deep streaks of purple ringing her pale eyes. “I never thought we’d see it in our lifetime, but I fear the time has come. I can feel myself weakening already.”

There was a sudden cacophony of whispers throughout the room as your sisters turned to one another in shock; you, however, couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at all. You hated to see your trusted leader in distress, but what could you do? If a new supreme was emerging, there was nothing that could change the matter.

“There has to be something we can do,” said Zoe, assuming her usual authoritative position as she stood up from her seat. “Cordelia, you can’t seriously be giving up, can you?”

Cordelia shook her head slowly. “I’ve been trying to come up with some sort of solution, but I’m not sure that there is one.”

Zoe craned her neck, wide brown eyes scanning the faces of the coven one by one. You lowered your gaze before she could get to you, staring at your palms as they fidgeted in your lap. “We’re naturally inclined as witches to excel magically. There has to be someone here that can beat out the warlock in the seven wonders test.”

“Zoe, you know that it takes years of study to master all seven skills,” said Cordelia patiently, refusing to allow her voice to waver. “Most of the witches here are new students. Even if one of us is capable of passing the seven wonders test, there’s no way they’ll be able to learn all the material in time.”

Zoe scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. “What about this warlock we’re just now hearing about? He’s hardly been studying at Hawthorne for a month and he’s apparently ready to take the test.”

“This is a special case,” said Cordelia. “I understand that you want to maintain our sacred womanhood, Zoe, but I’m beginning to believe that there’s nothing we can do.”

“Bullshit,” snapped Zoe, resulting in a collective flinch amongst the coven. “What about (y/n)? You’ve even said yourself that she exhibits strong potential and is already extremely advanced for a beginner.”

Your head shot up suddenly at the sound of your name; your cheeks burned when you realized that the rest of the girls had turned to look at you, eyebrows raised inquisitively as they regarded your face. Sure, you did well in your studies, but you’d never considered yourself supreme material, especially not now. Besides, you hadn’t even been able to perfect half the skills needed to pass the seven wonders test as of yet.

Cordelia turned to face you, surveying your expression calmly. You shook your head quickly, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of having the entire coven depend on you. “N-no, there’s no way. I’m still learning.”

“I can teach you everything you need to know,” said Zoe quickly, her eyes lighting up at Cordelia’s lack of protest. “If you don’t stop training for the next couple of weeks, I guarantee you’ll be able to master every skill. You’ve shown ability that we haven’t ever seen before.”

The rest of the girls nodded in agreement, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “I- I’m just a good student. It could be any of you as easily as it could be me.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t think there’s a single test you’ve scored lower than perfect on,” said Zoe, gesturing to Cordelia in request for her support. “And you pick up on everything so quickly. Who’s to say you won’t be able to master all seven wonders if put your mind to it?”

Cordelia let out a breath, raising her head diplomatically. “That’s certainly true,” she said. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for her to try.”

“I think you’re mistaken here,” you said softly, but you were unable to stop your words from shaking as panic began to set in. Were they seriously going to make you go up against a warlock prodigy? If what you’d heard was true, he possessed power beyond anything your coven had ever seen. There was no way you’d stand a chance. “There’s no way I’ll be able to beat him.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Zoe countered, hands on her hips. It seemed as though she’d already made up her mind. “We have to try everything. You’re our last hope, (y/n).”

“(Y/n), you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. But I will allow it, given the circumstances,” Cordelia said. “It’s up to you.”

You felt dozens of eyes on you, hopeful and eager, and you could taste the vague flavor of copper on the back of your tongue. “I just- I don’t want to let you all down.”

“You could never let us down,” said the younger witch, making her way over to your seat and taking your hand from your lap. “No matter what happens, we’ll think of you as our hero.”

Letting out a shuddery sigh, you allowed Zoe to level your hand in hers, turning it over and running her thumb over your damp palm. She gave it a comforting squeeze, not breaking eye contact, and you shut your eyes before speaking.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

The coven erupted into excited applause. You fought back the urge to vomit.

/

Cordelia had made arrangements for the seven wonders test as soon as you’d agreed to it, and now there really was no getting out of this. It had been decided, upon contacting the Hawthorne school, that the ‘boy wonder’, as he’d been dubbed, would come to Robichaux’s for the test, along with the Grand Chancellor and a few of his colleagues. The thought of having those men in your vicinity made you sick to your stomach, but you had no say in the matter; you supposed it would have been worse for you to go to them, however, surrounded by raging testosterone and stress-inducing boyish competitiveness.

Your studies had been going fairly well, though, and all the witches at school had banded together to help you to the best of their abilities. So far, you’d nearly perfected telekenesis, concilium, divination, and transmutation; Pyrokinesis had been a bit tricky for you to learn, but you’d started to get the hang of it, and vitalum vitalis was a work in progress. You’d managed to bring a withered potted plant back to its original lush, green state after several hours of practice; now you’d just have to start practicing on animals.

Descensum, however, was another story altogether. Of course you hadn’t expected for it to come easily, but the idea of being trapped in hell frightened you beyond belief- Zoe had assured you that a calm, clear mind would be the only way to master the skill, but you couldn’t help the anxiety that coursed through your body any time the Wonder was even brought up in conversation. You were well aware of what could happen if the act was performed improperly, far worse than the consequences of any of the other Wonders.

Was maintaining loyalty to your coven worth the risk of being eternally trapped in hell? You’d had your doubts, even going as far as searching for train tickets online to anywhere outside of New Orleans, desperate to escape the situation at hand.

Ultimately, though, you knew you’d never go through with running away. Once you made a promise, you intended to keep it, and Cordelia had given you a choice. You’d bound yourself to an agreement, and so the only thing you could do now was study your ass off and hope for the best.

You were cross-legged on your bed, thumbing through an old textbook, when you heard three knocks on your door.

“Come in,” you said distractedly.

The door opened, and there stood Cordelia, smiling softly as she looked upon you. She looked pristine as usual, pale blue sweater tucked carefully into her floral skirt, feet planted firmly to the ground, and you gave her a small wave before returning to the passage you’d been reading.

“(Y/n),” said Cordelia; the tone of her voice was deliberate and gentle, alarming you slightly- you had no doubt she was about to deliver some bad news. You averted your gaze fully to your supreme, folding down the corner of your textbook page and shutting it. “There are some people here for you to meet.”

Fuck, you thought, abruptly turning to your calendar which hung on the wall adjacent to your bed. You’d marked the date of the boy wonder’s designated arrival with a large red X, but you’d hardly been paying attention to the days as they rolled by. Was it already time?

“Oh no,” you murmured, jumping from your bed and abandoning your textbook amongst the rumpled sheets. Had you known you’d be meeting the so-called boy wonder, you would’ve put a bit more effort into your appearance: right now, you wore stained sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, face completely devoid of makeup and (h/c) hair awry. You looked like a fucking mess. “Cordelia, I lost track of time. I completely forgot they’d be arriving today. I’m not ready.”

“Nonsense,” said Cordelia good-naturedly. “I’m sure they’ll understand your current predicament. Come on.”

Her crystal blue eyes were kind, but stern. You had no choice.

You grunted, following her reluctantly and tagging behind her like a lost puppy as she made her way down the stairs and into the foyer. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the series of well-dressed men waiting there, smug expressions on their faces as they nodded to Cordelia in greeting.

“Mr. Augustus,” said Cordelia politely to the man you assumed was the Grand Chancellor. She stepped to the side, bringing you fully into view, and you raised a hand awkwardly at him. “This is (y/n) (y/l/n), one of my most talented students.”

“Hi,” you said, before your eyes landed on a taller boy, fresh-faced and handsome, full lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk as he looked you over.

“Ms. (y/l/n),” said the Grand Chancellor coldly, and the two colleagues he had in tow mumbled in what you assumed was a greeting. “This is Michael Langdon, your future supreme.”

You were too distracted by the sight of Michael Langdon to register the biting remark; you weren’t sure what you’d expected, but somehow this boy wasn’t it. He seemed to be enjoying your awe as you took him in, shifting his stance slightly to rest his hand on the top of his thigh. You approached him timidly, offering him your hand, and with glinting eyes, he took it.

His grip was, unsurprisingly, strong and domineering, and once he’d shaken your hand, he dropped it as though it were diseased, making a show of the way he immediately wiped his own hand on his jacket. “So you’re the witch who’s supposed to give me a run for my money.”

The Chancellor snickered, and you felt your skin prickle with embarrassment.

You cleared your throat. You hadn’t exactly expected this kind of hostility, especially not from the Hawthorne higher-ups, and you were beginning to understand why Cordelia harbored such distaste for them.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say that,” you said weakly, practically feeling the heat of Michael’s stare when you noticed his eyes lingering on your dirty sweatpants. He, on the other hand, was dressed impeccably; not a single wrinkle was visible on his black sweater and matching black pants, and an impossibly perfect black bow was tied beneath the starched collar of his white dress shirt. On his feet were expensive-looking shoes, so shiny you were sure you’d be able to see yourself in them. If it had been his intention to intimidate you with his undeniable style and poise, he’d definitely succeeded.

“Well, all I can say is, may the best player win.” He flashed you a nauseatingly attractive grin, and you tried your best to reciprocate.

You were sure your attempt at a smile looked far more like a grimace.

/

Three days. You only have to put up with him for three days.

You repeated the mantra in your mind like a prayer ever since Michael had arrived at Robichaux’s. Cordelia had generously allowed the warlocks to arrive several days before the actual test, in order to provide them with time to “settle” and “prepare”, whatever that meant. You didn’t understand how Cordelia was able to be so kind to people who so obviously had no respect for her- just by the way the Chancellor looked at Cordelia, with disgust apparent on his sullen face, it was clear how he felt about her. Still, the elegant supreme had continued to treat him kindly, offering his little entourage meals and their own individual bedrooms.

If it had been up to you, you would’ve made them all sleep outside. The Hawthorne warlocks had begun to grate finely on your nerves, and you were dangerously close to despising them all, especially the pompous, insufferable ‘boy wonder’.

It’d been less than a day since your first encounter with Michael, but he’d already managed to piss you off a multitude of times. He seemed to thrive off the way he was able to get under your skin, a malicious little smile on his plump lips each time he’d cross paths with you.

It had started this morning; you’d been awoken early to the sound of wet feet against the marble flooring of your walk-in bathroom, alongside soft humming in a low, near-inaudible octave. It had taken you, in your sleepy state, a few moments to register what was going on, but as soon as you did, you’d sprung from your sheets and straight for the bathroom.

The door was shut, but you didn’t bother to knock before flicking your wrist and flinging it open. There, in your fucking bathroom, stood Michael Langdon. He had a towel wrapped around his hips, so low that almost nothing was left to the imagination. His pale stomach was dotted with beads of water, soaked blond hair clinging onto his forehead in cartoonish curls. He had one hand resting on the counter as he brushed his teeth, admiring his reflection in the spot of your mirror where he’d wiped away the steam.

He hardly looked surprised that you’d barged in on him, giving you an innocent wave over his toned shoulder. “Good morning,” he said through a mouthful of toothpaste, bending over to spit it out into the sink.

“Um, I don’t remember saying you could use my bathroom?” you said, taken aback by the scene in front of you.

“You didn’t,” he said coolly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning to you. You tried your hardest not to look down at his body, refusing to stroke his apparently massive ego. “But I liked this bathroom the best.”

“So- you just- you just went searching for the perfect bathroom to suit your needs? Instead of just using the one attached to your guest room? Which Cordelia didn’t have to give you, by the way.” You were struggling to properly gather your thoughts, shocked by the nonchalance of this boy’s every move. What the fuck was his deal?

“Yep,” he said, hardly batting an eye. “I hope you don’t mind, but I also used your shampoo.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter if I mind, since you went ahead and used it anyway,” you griped. He chuckled at your obvious annoyance, running his fingers through his wet hair. You couldn’t deny the fact that he looked good. Really, really good. Not that you’d ever admit it, even if someone was holding a gun to your head.

“Well, when I’m supreme, this will all belong to me anyway.” He turned away from you, slipping the towel off of him and wiping down his hair, fully exposing his bare ass to you. You froze, eyes landing on the curved muscles traveling from his lower back to his thighs. This could not be happening.

“First of all,” you began, mesmerized against your will by the boy’s perfectly shaped rear-end. “That isn’t even how being a supreme works. You don’t just magically own everything. And second of all, please put your fucking towel back on.”

“Why? Am I making you nervous?” You didn’t have to see his face to detect the smirk that was no doubt plastered across it, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just- hurry up and finish, please.” You turned and left, slamming the door behind you as you returned to your bed. ‘Boy wonder’ sure as hell had a lot of nerve, and you weren’t sure you liked it.

After the bathroom incident, Michael had taken it upon himself to bother you at every chance he could. On one occasion, he’d intentionally sent your textbook flying upon finding you studying in the living room, and when you’d gone to pick it up, he made the book levitate above you, just out of reach. This was probably part of his strategy; there was no doubt that he wanted to weaken your resolve by interrupting your focus. There was nothing worse than attempting magic with a distracted mind, and you were sure he knew this. Above all, you were angry with yourself for allowing him to get to you, but you couldn’t help it.

After an uncomfortable dinner with your coven and the warlocks, you retreated to your room in a hurry, deciding to practice some more on your own. You sat with your eyes shut in the center of your bed, legs folded in front of you as you used your mind to coax your bed into the air inch by inch. You inhaled steadily as you felt the bed creep higher into the air, slowly but surely, and giggled to yourself when you felt the top of your head brush against the ceiling.

See? you told yourself encouragingly. He hasn’t completely ruined your focus. But perhaps you’d spoken too soon.

“Impressive,” came a familiar mocking voice from your doorway, ripping you from your intense concentration. You cried out as the bed crashed noisily onto the ground, knocking the wind out of you in the process. You heard a laugh, and you sat up quickly to glare at the boy who’d interrupted you. “You really expect to become supreme when a single word is enough to throw you off?”

No, I really don’t expect to become supreme, you thought bitterly, catching your breath.

“Why are you here?” you asked irritably, not bothering to feign a civil attitude. Clearly, he had no interest in behaving like a normal person, so why should you?

“Why am I here, at Miss Robichaux’s academy for exceptional young ladies? Well, that’s easy. I’m here to beat you in the seven wonders test and become the first ever male supreme.”

“Funny,” you spat, not a shred of amusement behind your voice, no longer in any sort of mood for this childish banter. Not that you had been in the first place. “Why are you in my room?”

“I told Cordelia that I wanted to study for the test, and she directed me here. She said I could have full access to your books.”

Fucking Cordelia was the first thing that crossed your mind, but you quickly reconsidered. You doubted Cordelia had actually told him that; it seemed much more likely to you that Michael had made the story up in order to piss you off some more. You clenched your jaw, waving your wrist lazily at the small bookshelf you’d installed above your desk. On command, your collection of books dislodged themselves and hovered high above the ground, before you made the last minute decision to send them catapulting in Michael’s direction. Without missing a beat, Michael held up a palm, freezing the books in place mid-air.

“Nice try,” he said, dropping his hand to his side. You watched, defeated, as your books fell one by one to the ground, making dull thuds as they came into contact with the wooden floor. “You know, (y/n), you can pretend you hate me all you want, but let’s not forget that one of my many abilities is clairvoyance.”

“Congratulations?” you said, cocking an eyebrow at him. What exactly was he getting at?

“Not that anyone would need to read your mind to tell how you really feel about me.” He quirked his lips at you, and you narrowed your eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. Stop playing dumb. Or should I say, dumber than usual?” You couldn’t even bring yourself to be affected by the insult, because your mind was beginning to race. Had he really heard your thoughts? Or was he just bluffing, another tactic to throw you off your game? You didn’t know why he cared so goddamn hard about psyching you out like this; you were hardly invested in this established rivalry, but he simply wouldn’t let up. You had a fleeting thought, for a fraction of a second, that maybe he was trying to get your attention, like a little boy shooting spitballs at his crush from across the classroom.

No. There was no way. He was far too perfect to be interested in someone like you, and you were certain he wouldn’t stoop to such immature tactics to try and get you to notice him. He was trying to get you to fuck up, and that was the end of it.

“Right, Michael. I’m madly in love with you. Just take a book and fuck off.”

He just looked at you, clear blue eyes sparkling through an otherwise stoic expression. He seemed- what was it… satisfied? pleased? though you couldn’t be sure why. In all honesty, you didn’t really care. You just wanted him gone.

He made his way over to your books, tapping his chin pensively as he decided on which one he wanted. Then he bent down to pick one up- a divination textbook, it seemed, leaving the rest discarded across the floor. When he stood up again, he gave you a wink, and you scrunched your face up in disgust.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, before turning on his heel and sauntering out into the hallway.

You waited until you were certain he was gone before sighing loudly, immediately relieved once you were out of his presence.

Two more days.

/

Somehow you’d managed to survive day two without anything eventful happening- Michael had spent much of his time alone in the guest room, likely practicing for the upcoming test. Good, you’d found yourself thinking as you walked by the shut door of the his room, noticing a flickering glow shining out from underneath the door. He’s actually doing something useful instead of trying to fuck with me.

You were almost convinced that he’d given up altogether, as he’d passed you during dinner without so much as a glance. You’d almost felt something like disappointment when, later on, he saw you in the living room, and didn’t even stop to throw a teasing comment in your direction.

What? No- you weren’t disappointed. You were glad he was leaving you alone. At least for the most part.

By the time you reached day three, the day before the actual seven wonders test, you were beginning to feel like yourself again; you were growing more confident in your abilities, and it dawned on you that maybe, maybe, you could beat Michael, if you really tried.

You weren’t sure that you were ready to be supreme, but you had no time to think about that possibility. The hours were closing in, and soon enough, it would be you against Michael, arguably the world’s most powerful warlock, and you had to be on your A game. That third day, you hardly left your bedroom, only allowing Zoe or Cordelia to come in periodically.

At a little past eleven, Zoe tucked you into bed and kissed both your cheeks, telling you to get your rest as she stroked your hair in a loving, motherly sort of way. You’d nodded, fully intending to disobey her orders the second she left, and that was exactly what you did- the instant the door clicked shut, you’d sent your textbooks spiraling from your bookshelf and onto your bed, anticipating at least another few hours of studying.

You’d been able to keep your cool for the coven’s sake, but deep down, you were scared shitless. You didn’t want to end up like Misty Day, the unfortunate witch who’d gotten herself stuck tragically in hell. You hadn’t ever met her, but you could see the pain deep in Cordelia’s eyes when she reminisced about her lost friend, and it terrified you. Even if you survived the descensum portion of the test, you feared you’d disappoint your sisters should you lose to Michael anyway. They were counting on you, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle the shame of letting them down.

You didn’t have time to worry, though.

You were halfway through re-reading the descensum chapter of your textbook, paying close attention to the steps listed in order to properly escape hell, when you realized it was near-freezing in your room. Your teeth chattered restlessly and you shivered, knitting your eyebrows together when you let out a breath and discovered that you could see it in front of you.

What the hell? You felt something wet touch your cheek, feather-light, and then you felt it again. And again, and again, and again. Tilting your head upwards, you could see that it was…

Snowing?

You lifted a hand above your head and stretched out your fingers, allowing a few white flakes to land on you before examining your hand closely. Sure enough, there were snowflakes, melting rapidly against your warm skin, confirming that somehow, it was, in fact, snowing in your room. 

There was only one explanation you could think of.

Fucking Michael.

You pulled yourself from your bed, wincing at the feeling of the freezing wood against your bare feet, hugging your arms to your stomach in an attempt to keep out the frigid cold that only increased as the seconds passed. You stepped back, observing the cloud that had formed by the ceiling above your bed, snowflakes drifting downwards and making wet spots on your sheets. If it hadn’t been directly inconveniencing you, you’d probably be impressed at the sight. 

You tore out of your bedroom and into the significantly warmer hallway, taking a moment to rub your hands together, attempting to regain feeling in your fingertips before you continued your beeline to Michael’s guest room. You turned the doorknob and stormed inside, finding Michael cross-legged over the white sheets of the bed.

It was the first time you’d seen him out of that ridiculous uniform; he wore red flannel pajama pants and a blue t-shirt, somehow making him look so much softer than usual. He looked up like he’d been expecting you, a mischievous grin crossing his lips, and you scowled.

“Oh, hi, (y/n),” he said casually. “Are you here to tell me you’re no longer taking the seven wonders test tomorrow, because you know you have no chance against me?”

“Oh, believe me, Michael, I’m taking the test. And I’m gonna drag you through the fucking mud.” Perhaps you were coming across as a little too confident for your own good, especially considering who you were talking to, but you needed all the ego boosts you could get right now.

He snickered, bringing his legs over so they dangled off the side of his bed, his sock-clad feet brushing the floor. “Right. Keep telling yourself that.”

“I came here to tell you to stop making it snow in my room.”

He tilted his head to one side, soft blond waves loosely framing his perfect face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, Michael,” you said, skin burning as you regarded the infuriatingly gorgeous boy in front of you. “If you’re so sure you’re going to win, I don’t see why you have to keep sabotaging me.”

He licked his lips, bringing himself to his feet. You cowered slightly, remembering how much taller he was than you, but you managed to quickly return to your defensive stance, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “The only person sabotaging you,” he said, swinging his hips as he came closer to you, “is yourself.”

“How am I sabotaging myself? You’re the one doing all the immature shit with your magic to mess me up.” You hoped he didn’t notice the blush that was making its way across your cheeks as he gradually closed the gap between the both of you, your heart racing.

“You could ignore me if you wanted to,” he said. “But you don’t.”

He stopped in front of you, reaching out to brush a strand of your hair away from your face. His touch was light, but it certainly wasn’t tender, and you could see something animalistic beginning to emerge behind his dilated eyes.

“Why don’t you?” he asked, his voice an octave lower than it had been seconds before. You blinked, unsure of what to say. You weren’t certain you even had an answer to his question. He didn’t give you time to respond, though, because he continued his negging, peppermint-scented breath hot on your face. “It’s such a cliché, isn’t it? The strong-willed little witch wanting nothing more than to be fucked good by her warlock rival.”

You gasped, feeling as though you’d been struck across the face by his words. You were hardly able to process them, though- in your moment of stunned silence, he proceeded to crash his lips against yours with enough force to almost send you reeling backwards. Wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping you close to his warm torso as he embraced you, the kiss became rough and sloppy, teeth clashing against teeth.

“Michael,” you mumbled, half-heartedly pulling away. The smug look in his hooded eyes told you that he hardly bought your reluctant act, but he stopped all the same, allowing you time to make up your mind. “I- I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” He trailed his fingers across your shoulders, giving you goosebumps as he made his way down your arm.

“Why are you so hell bent on fucking me up?” you demanded, wriggling in his grasp. “You already know you have the upper hand.”

“So you admit it?” He let you forcibly remove his arms from your body, putting up no resistance. “You admit that I have the upper hand.”

“As if that’s some big revelation,” you muttered, contempt filling up in your belly and fueling your rage. “We all know it! You’re boy wonder, powerful beyond all comprehension, and I’m just some witch who happens to get high test scores. I don’t even want to take this goddamned test!”

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully, playing with a piece of your hair before brushing it behind your shoulder. “So why take it, then?”

His tone was so indecipherable, you could hardly tell if he was mocking you, or if the question was genuine. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Can I guess?” he whispered into your ear, sending chills down your spine alongside an unwelcome tingling sensation between your thighs. “Your estrogen-fueled magic club can’t bear to accept that they’ll no longer be in control of things after I become supreme. So you, being the admirably loyal little witch you are, offered yourself up to try and stop me.”

You stared at him, too ashamed to admit that he was right. He gave you a cocky half-smile, running his tongue idly along his upper lip. “How’d I do?”

You said nothing, sucking your teeth nervously and averting your gaze. He let out a dry, condescending laugh, nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply, as if to inhale the shame that no doubt radiated from you.

“But you know what’s funny?” You took a step backwards, but he followed, gaining on you closely. “Those witches that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for? They couldn’t care less about you. They’re perfectly okay leaving you in hell to rot so long as it means they’ve left no stones unturned.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, no doubt unconvincing as you lowered your voice to a hushed tone. “They gave me a choice.”

“That’s what they made you think, isn’t it? But you don’t really believe that, do you?”

You felt your back press against the door and you swallowed, realizing you were cornered. He looked positively dangerous right now, eyes wild and dark. Was there truth to what he was saying? Or were you simply letting him get in your head?

“But you’re no saint either,” he mused, resting one palm on the door beside your head. “I mean, what sort of witch wants to fuck the enemy of her coven?”

“You’re a fucking narcissist,” you exclaimed almost frantically, and Michael shook his head, disrupting the position of his silky curls, eyes rolling dramatically into the back of his skull.

“Maybe,” he said, voice monotone. “But you’re a desperate little-“

You cut him off, gripping the front of his shirt to pull him in, your lips pressing against his with enough force that you tasted blood. He wasted no time before easing his tongue inside your mouth, keeping his hand propped beside your head, bringing the other up to your throat and gripping it loosely. Of course he’d felt the need to assert his dominance, even now as you submitted to him- and you hated the fact that you didn’t really mind.

You let him press his firm body up against you, rendering you helpless; a string of spit stretched between your faces when Michael pulled away briefly, the silvery strand only breaking when he pressed his lips to your neck.

You decided you’d ignore the logic that gnawed at the back at your mind, choosing instead to give in to your temptation; this was the first time you’d felt alive since you’d agreed to take the seven wonders test, and you wanted to revel in the feeling. You reached down between your bodies, palming Michael’s hard length through his pajamas, mouth watering upon discovering how completely massive it felt.

You felt him smirk against your neck, grazing his teeth against the delicate skin. “Someone’s eager,” he mumbled, sending near-euphoric vibrations throughout your body.

You considered giving him some mouthy reply, but wound up wordlessly wrapping your fingers around his shaft through the flannel, causing his hips to roll forward. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s eager,” you shot back, punctuating the sentence by reconnecting your lips with Michael’s.

He stopped you, biting your lower lip and pulling it back sharply, before sucking two of his fingers and pushing them past the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. You whined, feeling his damp fingers drag down your pelvis and onto your aching heat; he circled your clit for a moment before moving on to run them along your outer lips.

“Completely soaked,” he remarked, his lips ghosting your jaw as he spoke. “And all for me.”

You bucked your hips forward and he slid his fingers past your entrance, sinking his teeth into your neck. You whined, feeling Michael’s long digits stretch your tight walls, rotating your hips instinctively against him. “F-fuck,” you groaned, and again you felt his lips curve upwards against you.

“What do you think Cordelia would say if you saw this?” he said, bringing his head up to look at you. You whimpered, lifting one leg to hook around his hip, and he began to thrust his fingers into you hard and slow, making sure to reach your innermost walls with each deliberate push. “You giving yourself up to me like this.”

“I l-like you a lot better w-when your mouth is shut,” you managed, following your words with a soft moan.

“I like you a lot better when my fingers are inside you,” he retorted, swiping his thumb over your swollen bud, sending your legs into convulsions. “You’re a lot less annoying when you’re on the brink of an orgasm.”

“J-just shut up and fuck me.” You took it upon yourself to reach past his arm, which was positioned between your legs, and into his boxers, tugging impatiently at his length.

“Can’t wait, huh?” he said, pulling his fingers out of you. You stifled a disappointed whine at the lack of stimulation, dropping your leg down from his side; he worked down his boxers and pants, only bothering to pull them down to his knees before yanking down your sweatpants and underwear in one go.

You stepped out of the garments which were now pooled around your ankles, kicking them haphazardly to the side. You allowed Michael to grip your thigh roughly, hoisting it up higher to wrap around his waist, your arms extending forward to drape over his shoulders. Then he moved one hand between his legs, grabbing hold of his cock and running the head firstly against your clit, and then down the center of your dripping entrance.

“God, Michael,” you breathed, tilting your head back to rest against the door.

“So worked up and I haven’t even started fucking you yet,” he muttered, guiding his cock inside you steadily. Your body tensed as he began to fill you up, his pace agonizingly slow. He hissed, feeling your warm walls wrap tightly around him, rutting forward carefully as he prepared to start fucking you.

Abruptly, he administered a hard thrust into you, and you couldn’t help but cry out. You grabbed two fist fulls of moist blond hair, tugging desperately at the root as he settled on a rhythm, hardly showing any mercy with his ruthless pounding. The door rattled in its hinges behind you, probably loud enough that anybody out in the hallway could hear, but you were too far gone to care at this point.

“H-Harder,” you choked out, and he obliged as best he could, grunting loud as a bead of sweat traveled down his forehead. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin on your parted lips, pulling your leg tighter around him all while struggling to remain upright.

Fuck, he felt good, and you were more than happy to indulge yourself in the sinful decadence that was Michael Langdon. This boy had to be some sort of sex god; the way his body moved in melodic time with yours was fucking indescribable. Later on, you’d probably chastise yourself for having been so reckless and stupid, but right now, all you could think about was the pleasure, building up deep in your stomach.

You couldn’t hold back your sounds of erratic pleasure as the head of Michael’s cock made sharp contact with your spongey inner walls, causing your jaw to unhinge and your eyes to roll back. You felt your walls clench around Michael’s length, your stomach dropping, and you were close, no longer able to form any sort of coherent thought.

You felt his large hand against your throat, and then he was squeezing, hard enough that you felt lightheaded. He brought his face close to yours, and you forced yourself to open your eyes- you could barely make out his features, your vision blurred and spotty, eyelids drooping impossibly low. His forehead shone with sweat, blond curls clinging to his neck and forehead, chest heaving. Through his visible exhaustion, though, he still managed a wicked, close-mouthed smile.

“Are you gonna come for your new supreme?” His voice was cracked and raspy, but the words cut through you like a razor, numbing your senses momentarily. You froze, all at once snapped back into reality.

“No,” you snapped, with as much strength as you could muster. “But you can come for your new supreme.”

With that, you placed your palms on his chest and gave him a hard shove. He stumbled backward, his cock leaving you in the process, the veiny surface glistening with the same juices that dribbled down your inner thighs. Your legs wobbled as you regained your balance, but you didn’t let up, striding towards Michael before he had the chance to do anything else. You gave him another push, this time landing him on the bed, grabbing his pants from around his ankles and tossing them to the side.

He looked at you from where he lay, eyes widened with awe. He made no attempt to get up, instead resting on his elbows so his upper body was slightly raised. You felt a rush of power flood through your veins like a tsunami, electrifying and intoxicating, and in that moment you were sure there was no force on earth that could stop you.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling Michael’s torso, still clothed in his blue t-shirt. You grabbed the hem and pulled the shirt over his head, leaving him completely bare, your hands promptly jumping to wander aimlessly over his toned stomach. Shifting your body downwards, you lined yourself up with his erection, biting down on your lower lip as you took his member in your hand and began to impale yourself with it.

“You might think this is a man’s world,” you said as steadily as you could, watching Michael as he gripped the soft area between your upper thighs and hips, hard enough to leave bruises. “But around here, women run shit. So you and your little warlock friends better get used to it.”

Your eyes fluttered shut once you’d slid yourself all the way down on his length, grinding your body pointedly and circling your hips. Michael grit his teeth, his quiet moans turning louder and needier as you quickened your tempo, your eyes filling with tears from the sheer intensity of the sensation. For once, Michael Langdon seemed to be at a loss for words, nothing more than soft gasps passing his full, red lips.

You raised yourself up before bringing yourself back down forcefully, using your remaining bit of energy to start bouncing on his cock, running your fingers through your hair to stop it from falling in your face. His hold on you only tightened as you fucked yourself on him harder, fingers clinging to your padded skin and leaving you with his imprint. You lifted your fist to your lips, biting down on your thumb to hold back the noises of ecstasy that fought to escape you each time Michael’s cock reached your innermost points.

You were close, and from the throaty grunts coming from Michael, you knew he was too. You opened your eyes to catch a glimpse of the handsome boy as he neared his climax, enamored by how utterly god-like he looked, his head thrown back against the sheets and surrounded by a halo of golden waves, his lips glossy with spit.

The sight alone aroused you enough to push you over the edge, and in a matter of seconds you were orgasming, squeezing your eyes shut as your teeth broke the skin of your whitened knuckles. Next you felt Michael release, the feeling of his load warming your insides only helping to heighten your climax.

You rode out the wave until every last drop of pleasure had come and gone, and then you pulled yourself off of Michael, falling limply beside him. He was still recovering from his own orgasm, it seemed, because there was a long period of silence, save for the both of you catching your breath, before he said anything.

“Jesus,” he breathed, and you laughed, removing your sweaty body from the sheets and picking your discarded pajamas up off the floor. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt more confident than you ever had for the test; the massive bundle of tension within you had been relieved. Maybe all you’d needed to get yourself in the right mindset was a good dicking down.

You slipped your sweatpants back on, adjusting your hair without too much thought before you turned to face the tamed boy wonder, still breathless and naked on his back.

“Good luck on the test tomorrow,” you said, batting your eyes innocently, and with that, you left him alone to deal with his thoughts.

It was time for a good night’s sleep. You’d need it, if you had any intention of beating Michael Langdon. And now, finally, you did.


	7. Undeniable (Fire and Reign Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you’re an intern at Kineros Robotics, where you meet michael langdon, who’s supposedly the antichrist. (un?)fortunately for you, michael takes an interest in you.
> 
> includes: fem!Reader, fire and reign michael, mean!michael, degradation, dirty talk, fingering, rough sex, blowjobs/facefucking, spanking, hair pulling, choking, orgasm denial

“(Y/n).”

A familiar voice boomed through the empty white hallways, and your stomach lurched. You hurried in its direction, keeping your chin high and shoulders straight to try and appear as though you weren’t about to shit your pants. But fuck, every time you heard Venable’s voice, cold and authoritative, you felt a fresh wave of dread wash over you.

You reached the desk at the opposite end of the hall, reluctantly meeting your gaze with the woman sitting behind it. She looked up at you with downturned lips, a vague expression of disgust settled across her face as she surveyed you behind horn-rimmed glasses. You shifted nervously, rocking on your heels as you waited for her to say something.

In front of her on the desk was a glass bowl, filled to the top with a finely milled white substance. You didn’t need to ask what it was; it was well known that the guys around here had a serious coke habit. But you certainly weren’t one to judge. “Bring this to Jeff and Mutt,” she ordered, gesturing to it with a glove-clad hand. Purple, of course.

You nodded quickly, reaching for the bowl and wrapping your fingers around the cool glass.

“If you drop it, I will cut off your hands, do you understand me?” There was not a hint of humor behind her voice, and you swallowed nervously, nodding for a second time.

You lifted the bowl up, keeping it steady between your hands. Then you took in a breath and headed for the lab, which you only really visited when you were bringing Jeff or Mutt coffee. In all honesty, you had no idea how you’d managed to land an internship at Kineros Robotics, but somehow, you had; perhaps it was your lengthy high school transcript, riddled with science awards and stellar grades, or perhaps it was your determination- you’d been trying to secure an “in” to the company ever since you’d begun your first year of college, and had refused to let up no matter how many times they’d attempted to turn you away. Or maybe it was the prestigious college you attended, and the fact that you were currently excelling in the engineering program.

Either way, it didn’t really matter. All you really did anyway was everyone’s bitch work, all while enduring Venable’s verbal abuse. You didn’t like it, hated it, even, but your dream was to work for the company, and this was the only way.

You arrived at the lab and knocked gingerly at the door; the last thing you wanted was to be chastised by the bowl headed cokeheads for interrupting their concentration, which had happened numerous times before.

“What?” came an irritable voice, and you could hear unintelligible muttering growing louder and louder as the man who’d spoken approached the door. “We have shit going on right now-“

The door swung open, and there stood Jeff, one hand on his hip, eyebrow cocked impatiently. The instant he saw the bowl in your hands, though, he perked up.

“Oh, dude, it’s just (y/n) with our coke,” he called over his shoulder.

“You’re gonna do coke during our meeting with the fuckin’ antichrist, man?” came Mutt’s response from inside the lab.

“Uh, yes?” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He turned back in your direction, gesturing for you to follow him inside. “Yo, dude, you ever try blow before?”

Hot at his heels, you craned your neck to see who he was talking to. You hadn’t known there was anyone else in the lab, and considering the fact that you dealt with the same three people on a daily basis, you were more than interested to see who it was. You figured it had to be someone important.

Standing in the middle of the lab, dressed entirely in black, stood a man. He was examining one of Jeff and Mutt’s robot creations, running his fingers over the smooth metal curves. From what you could see, he was handsome, and remarkably so, with effortless golden hair falling almost to his shoulders in loose waves. You swallowed.

You carefully set down the bowl on one of the paper-scattered tables before waving politely at Mutt, who hardly looked up from his laptop. Immediately Jeff removed the crystalline lid from the bowl with a loud clatter, revealing a heaping mountain of white powder inside. He used the dainty silver ladle inside to lay down a small mound on the table, grabbing for an index card before dividing the coke into thin lines.

“Michael, you want in?” he asked, pressing one finger against a nostril and lowering himself to the table.

Michael. You almost flinched when the man finally turned in your direction, averting your gaze quickly to your shoes.

Michael’s plump lips curved downwards, and he shook his head. “No, I think I’m all right.” The man didn’t exactly strike you as one to use drugs; something about him seemed far too focused on order and control to partake in something so judgement-impairing.

“Oh, (y/n), have you met Michael? He’s the antichrist,” said Jeff, once he’d inhaled one of the lines.

Your first reaction was to laugh; you couldn’t help it- the statement was so ridiculous, and he’d said it so matter-of-factly. The antichrist? Really? You knew that the pair had allegedly sold their souls, a “fact” you’d picked up on by listening to snippets of conversations as you worked. That alone was hard enough to believe, and now they were trying to claim that they had the antichrist standing in the middle of their lab?

“No, like, actually,” said Mutt flatly, still not looking up from his computer screen. You peered over at the blond-haired man again, hoping to see what he was making of these ‘antichrist’ claims, but his expression was indecipherable.

“We didn’t believe it at first, either,” said Jeff, wiping the excess cocaine off his nose with his sleeve. “But then he turned the assistant into a pile of dust just by looking at her.”

You made an attempt to hold back another laugh, which failed despite your attempt to obscure the sound with a fake cough. In response to your obvious doubt, the so-called antichrist looked over to you and raised his eyebrows, sending your stomach into knots.

Well, if it turns out that he isn’t actually the antichrist, he’s still pretty fucking intimidating, you thought, although you couldn’t be sure why. The man didn’t seem to be much older than twenty-five, and he had a look to him that you could only describe as pretty. Nothing about him seemed outwardly tough or dangerous, and yet there was something about him that made your insides churn. He radiated a raw sort of power, his stance confident and domineering.

“Don’t laugh about that, or he might do it to you, too,” warned Jeff earnestly, going back down for another line. “But I’d really prefer if you didn’t, dude,” he added, now addressing Michael, who still remained silent. “(Y/n) gets us coffee faster than any of the other interns we’ve had. I don’t think I can stand to lose her.”

“So you’re not joking? You actually think this guy is the antichrist?” you asked. Normally you would’ve left the lab by now, not wanting to be a bother to anyone, but you couldn’t stop yourself from being curious.

“No, we don’t think it, we know it,” said Jeff, before turning to address Michael, who appeared to be losing his patience. “You gotta show her that sick 666 scar so she knows you’re legit, dude.”

Michael let out a dry chuckle, not laughing as much as he was exhaling sharply, his lips quirking into a humorless smile. He rolled his neck just barely to one side, pale eyes darting to make contact with yours. Your skin prickled with warmth under his stare, almost to where you felt lightheaded, and you leaned one arm behind you to rest on the desk.

“I don’t feel it’s necessary to try and prove myself to some insubordinate unpaid intern,” Michael said finally, folding his hands behind his back. His voice was smooth and rich, and he dragged his words out leisurely as he spoke; he sounded downright alluring, even while he was insulting you. You narrowed your eyes, glancing back to see if Jeff and Mutt had reacted to the rude remark, but they seemed entirely unfazed.

“Then I guess I’ll just take your word for it, antichrist,” you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t tell that you’d been somewhat hurt by his words. You started towards the door, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you dug your hands into the pockets of your form fitting skirt.

Without warning, Michael held out his hand, and all at once you couldn’t breathe, an unseen force wrapping around your throat and constricting tightly. Panicking, your hands flew to your neck, fingers grasping at hands that didn’t exist, eyes nearly bulging out of your head. A cocky smirk crossed Michael’s plump lips as he watched you struggle, and you widened your eyes at him desperately in a last-ditch effort to beg for your life.

“Is this enough to quiet your skepticism?” said Michael mockingly, approaching you with a lazy stride, grazing his fingers along the smooth metal of the robot prototypes as he passed them.

You nodded your head frantically, mouth opening and closing as pathetic choking noises left your throat. He drummed his fingers along his jawline as he presumably decided whether or not to stop, only letting you evade his invisible grip once he was fully satisfied with your state of terror.

Once he’d released you, you dropped your chest down to hold onto your knees, panting as you sucked in the air that you desperately needed. From under your hair, which had fallen to obscure your face, you glared at Jeff and Mutt. “Seriously? You were just gonna let him choke me to death?”

“We told you he was the antichrist,” said Mutt with a bit too much nonchalance for your liking. It took a few seconds for you to recuperate, and once you had, you realized you were angry.

“I thought you didn’t need to prove yourself to an insubordinate unpaid intern,” you snapped at Michael, perhaps with a little too much attitude for your own good. Your throat ached, and you wondered if you’d have bruises around your neck tomorrow, despite no one actually touching you.

“I don’t,” he said smoothly, swaying his hips as he strolled closer to you. “But I wanted to make it perfectly clear that I own everything to do with this company, including them-“ he waved a hand in the direction of Jeff and Mutt, “-and you. So I would suggest showing some respect.”

“Excuse me? You own me? Yeah, I don’t think so.” You were in over your head at this point; Michael took another step, closing in on you, an inappropriately serene smile making its way across his face. Your stomach dipped, but it was far too late to go back now. Silently, you prayed to whoever was out there listening, because you were fairly certain your neck was about to be snapped.

“You’ve got quite the fiery tongue for somebody in your position,” he remarked, feigning sympathy as he looked you over, from your patent-leather flats, to your nude colored pantyhose, to your sensible white button-down. You felt yourself flush as he observed your body, something indecipherable flashing behind his eyes. “We’ll see if it’s quite as biting when I cut it out of your mouth.”

“Okay, okay,” said Jeff suddenly, jumping to his feet and inserting himself between the two of you. He shot you a glare, pointing towards the door. “I think you should go, (y/n). We have things to discuss, don’t we, Michael?”

You obeyed, hurrying away from the dangerous man, mind swirling with questions that you weren’t sure would ever be answered. What the actual fuck had just happened? Was that man, Michael, actually the antichrist? Clearly he possessed some sort of supernatural power, seeing that he’d nearly choked you to death without even putting his hands on you. But— what the fuck?

You could hardly put your confusion into coherent thoughts, so instead you just left without another word, leaving Jeff and Mutt to deal with the poor-mannered man. Hopefully, that would be the last you’d see of him.

//

You finished your day without crossing paths with Michael again, which you were grateful for, and by the next day, you’d almost forgotten about what had happened. You’d used your eavesdropping abilities to try and find out what Michael’s deal was, and had discovered that he’d been in search of a robotic replica of- his mother, was it? You weren’t sure, but Jeff and Mutt had agreed to take on the job for free.

Those two were pretty damn convinced that Michael was really the antichrist, and that his father owned them. Michael was pretty damn convinced of this, too, and you had to admit you were starting to believe it yourself.

Now, though, as you walked through the hallways in the direction of the lab, any thoughts of the handsome antichrist failed to cross your mind. You carefully refrained from thumbing through the file that Venable had presented you with minutes before, tucking it under your arm to reduce the temptation. You thought maybe once you were in the privacy of the lab you’d take one peek, just one, before getting back to work.

You couldn’t help it; you were a curious person, and working- or should you say, interning- at a company like this one, there was bound to be something interesting lurking inside the files.

By the time you’d entered the laboratory, you were already flipping through the pages inside the envelope, pressing your back to the doors as you discovered the meticulously labeled pictures inside. They were mainly photographs of an older woman with short hair and dark lipstick, layered with notes in black marker. You assumed it was for a project Jeff and Mutt were working on, and upon checking the inner portion of the folder, you saw a name written in bold letters: Miriam Mead.

You hadn’t gotten very far in the file when you heard somebody clear their throat, assertive and deliberate. You gasped, nearly dropping the file to the ground as your head shot up to face the source of the noise: instead of seeing Jeff and Mutt there, which was what you’d originally feared, you saw somebody far worse: the blond-haired man from yesterday, Michael. As in, the fucking antichrist (…allegedly).

Oh, fuck.

He was sitting behind one of the desks amidst the robots and computers, fingers laced on the table in front of him. “Is that my Ms. Mead’s file you’re going through?”

He did not sound amused. You trembled, scrambling to shut the file before timidly walking over to Jeff’s desk and setting it down. “I was just, um, I was just curious,” you stammered. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

He stood up slowly, causing you to back away, but you settled down when he didn’t make any brash motions. He paused to look at you, and then down to his gold-faced watch with an irritable expression on his face. “Where are the men I’m supposed to be meeting with?”

“Who? Jeff and Mutt?” you asked him. “They’re on their lunch break. For, like, another forty-five minutes. You came too early.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he double checked his watch.

“I, uh, I could make you some coffee or tea or something while you wait,” you said, suddenly feeling nice. Or maybe it was the fear that he’d try to choke you again? You couldn’t be sure.

“Is that all you’re good for around here? Making drinks for people?” he spat, and in a matter of seconds your impromptu niceness melted away. You frowned, placing your hands on your hips as you regarded him.

“I was just trying to be nice,” you said, flinching when he began circling around the desk to come closer to you. “I don’t understand why you have to be so rude.”

He’s the antichrist. Of course he’s rude, you thought, and you almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Were you really getting upset over the so-called antichrist being mean to you? You took a step back, preparing to leave, but something stopped you in that moment from taking off.

“Why not?” he said with a cold smile, tilting his head to one side. You scowled, starting to turn on your heel, when Michael’s hand shot forward to where the glass bowl of cocaine still rested; he nudged it forward with little force, a smirk on his lips as he watched your expression, and with that, it toppled to the ground with a jarring shatter.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed. In between the two of you was a scattered expanse of glass shards and white powder, something you knew would take ages to clean up. Your heart hammered in your chest as you remembered Venable’s warning from the day before, when she’d threatened to cut off your hands should you ever break the bowl. She was going to be fucking furious, and there was no way she’d believe that Michael was the one responsible. Even if she did, she’d probably still punish you for it.

You dropped to your knees, grabbing desperately at the sharp splinters and collecting them into a pile beside you as tears brimmed your eyes. Michael chuckled softly to himself, and you let out an angry huff.

“You have serious problems,” you said, wincing as one of the pieces of glass cut into your palm. You didn’t stop, though; there wasn’t any time to spare.

“Poor thing,” he drawled, footsteps drawing closer as you assumed he was coming to more closely admire his handiwork. “Worked so hard your whole life to get good grades. Get into a good school. Put mommy and daddy in debt so you could take out student loans. And all for this.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmured, even though you had to admit there was some truth to his words. You kept picking up glass, refusing to look up, refusing to let him see the shame in your face.

“And now four years later, with no job offers, you’re stuck doing the bitch work at a robotics company for no pay while you swear to yourself that you’re gonna work your way up,” he continued, and it was then that you realized a tear had left your eye and was making its way down your face. You sucked in a breath, trying your best to tune out his harsh words, but you couldn’t deny how true they were.

“Stupid girl,” he chided. “You could’ve made a deal with my father to get you to where you wanted to be. But instead you chose the honest route, and now here you are.” He laughed cruelly, and from the corner of your eye you could see the pointy ends of his well-shined dress shoes. He was close, way too close, and you could almost feel the evilness radiating from his every pore. “But perhaps you like being on your knees?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself looking up, eyes wide. Had he meant for that to sound so…suggestive? He raised his eyebrows at you, and as you shifted onto the back of your heels, you realized that his crotch was eye-level with you; you tried not to acknowledge it.

“Well?” he said, reaching down to tuck two fingers beneath your chin. You had the passing urge to tell him to fuck off, to keep his hands off you, but something was stopping you from doing it. “Tell me. Do you like this? Being on your knees?”

“No,” you said, voice cracking. You kept your eyes locked with his, your stomach churning at the way they glinted mischievously over you.

“Really?” He dragged his fingers along your jaw, veering off momentarily to run his thumb over your bottom lip. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to will away the throbbing sensation that had begun to make itself known between them. What the fuck was wrong with you? “Because I think you like it. Being on your knees. Serving people. I think it’s what you were made for, don’t you?”

If you hadn’t been so enticed, you probably would’ve been offended by this comment. Instead, though, you sank your teeth into your bottom lip, fingernails beginning to form runs on the pantyhose across your thighs. “I- I don’t-” your voice trailed off; you didn’t know what to say. On one hand, you wanted to defend yourself, but on the other…

Your eyes flickered to Michael’s crotch for a split second before you returned to his eyes; the sight alone was enough to make your mouth water, a large bulge already protruding in the front of his expensive pants.

“Why don’t you take a break from serving that insufferable bitch at the front desk and those two coke heads, and serve me instead, hm?”

Before you could stop yourself, a soft “o-okay,” left your lips, and the corners of Michael’s full lips quirked upwards again. He ran his hand down the front of his body, over his stomach and down to his crotch, palming at his erection through his pants. Then he beckoned you forward with a simple tilt of his chin, fingers moving to undo his belt.

“Why do you think you deserve to suck my cock?” he asked you casually, unzipping his pants and pulling his length out from the confines of his boxers. Oh fuck, you thought, jaw dropping at the sight of him, long and thick and flushed at the leaking tip. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft loosely, applying slow strokes to himself as he waited for your response.

“I- I don’t,” you said without thinking. At this point you were being controlled purely by your lust- you knew that after this was all over, you’d scold yourself for so easily succumbing to temptation, for letting this total stranger degrade you like this.

“You don’t what?” he said, running his thumb over the precum dripping from his slit as he kept eye contact with you.

“I don’t deserve to suck your cock,” you muttered through grit teeth. You squirmed, the ache between your thighs becoming distracting as you blinked innocently up at Michael.

“Mm. Why not?” he pressed, his tone so indifferent that it almost frustrated you.

“B-because. You said it yourself. I’m just the unpaid intern doing other people’s bitch work.” Your cheeks must’ve been beet red at this point, but somehow you were more aroused than you’d ever been before. The worst part, though, was that you were too far gone to be disgusted with yourself.

He snickered, widening his stance to give you room to kneel between his shoes. He seemed to be satisfied with your reply, because all he gave was a short, “open your mouth.” You complied, reaching for his cock, but he slapped your hand away.

You returned your hands to your thighs, holes now apparent in your stockings as you scratched at them idly. You kept your mouth open for Michael, almost moaning at the sensation of his warm, salty skin meeting your lips; he hissed as he slid himself all the way into your mouth, while you made sure to keep perfectly still for him.

“You like the way I taste?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. You tried your best to nod, sputtering slightly as the the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, and he laughed coldly. “You’re by far the most pathetic person I’ve ever met. I’ve done nothing but insult you and you’re still presenting your mouth for me to fuck.”

You could hardly comprehend his words, too turned on to think clearly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gave his first, hard thrust into your mouth. Tears sprang to your eyes and you struggled to breath through your nose, but still you didn’t move, allowing him to use you to his liking.

He took a fist full of your hair in one large hand, jerking you forward so he could feel himself deep in your throat. “You take me so well,” he rasped, holding your head in place so you couldn’t wriggle away; your nose reached the soft blond curls surrounding his pelvis, tears now streaming down your cheeks, yet somehow you still wanted more, wanted him to use you until your throat ached. “It’s like you were made to take my cock.”

He snapped his hips forward with a low groan, resulting in a garbled cough from the back of your throat, thick strands of saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. You couldn’t imagine what this scene might look like to Venable or Jeff and Mutt, should they unexpectedly come into the lab; you knew realistically, you should be afraid of this prospect, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. In Michael’s presence, you seemed to have no inhibitions, no discretion.

You didn’t have to do much, on your knees as he ruthlessly used your mouth- only keep your jaw unhinged to avoid your teeth scraping his sensitive skin, and hollow your cheeks. He did the rest, fucking your face without mercy, smirking with each choked noise that left you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, using his other hand to take another handful of hair, yanking you forward by the root. You cried out, or at least you tried to, gagged with Michael’s above-average sized cock. Your scalp stung with each forceful pull he administered to your hair, but the pain did nothing but intensify the arousal pooling between your thighs, eyes rolling back into your head.

He thrust himself into your throat one final time before pulling out, a silvery string of saliva stretching between your swollen lips and his cock. You panted heavily, looking up to Michael with doe eyes, mascara no doubt running down your face in a pornographic display.

Without warning, he took you by the collar of your black button-up and yanked you to your feet, wasting no time before tearing it open, sending buttons flying across the lab and bouncing noisily across the floor. For a second, you were snapped back into reality, gaping down at the damage Michael had done to your expensive shirt. “Michael…” you whispered, but he only continued to slide your shirt off, discarding it amongst the glass shards and cocaine at your feet.

He pulled you into a feverish embrace, his lips warm against yours, teeth bumping against teeth as he pushed you back towards Jeff’s desk. He shoved you against it roughly, hard enough that you feared you’d have bruises on your lower thighs from where the edge dug into you, his hands moving to slide your bra straps down your shoulders.

“You gonna let me fuck you right here?” he asked, deep and husky. Hiking up your skirt and parting your thighs, he wedged himself between them, taking a bruising hold of your hips. His mouth attached itself to the side of your neck, making you squeal when he bit down harshly on the tender skin, leaving a trail of pretty purple marks down your chest and over your tits.

Jesus christ, you’d be so fucked if someone were to walk in right now. But god, that made this all the more exciting.

Once he was satisfied with the blooming spots of purple and blue he’d left scattered over your heaving chest, he turned to focus his attention on the black lacy fabric of your bra. He wrapped his lips around your thinly veiled areola, soaking the fabric through with his saliva, lifting one hand to tightly grip your throat and keep you in place. Nipping and sucking at your sensitive nipples, he grinned wickedly to himself whenever he’d elicit a needy whine from you, weak under his touch. You were a mess, like putty in his hands, and he knew it.

“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” he asked you breathlessly, pulling away from your breasts and bringing his head up to face you. He looked positively delicious right now, eyes heavy lidded and lips puffy and red. You nodded, cheeks flushed, jumping when he reached under your skirt and snapped your pantyhose against your abdomen. “I think you need to be taught a lesson.”

He rolled your pantyhose down to your knees, stepping back to reposition you. Taking you by the wrist, he flipped you around, bending you over the desk and knocking over several files in the process; neither of you batted an eye, though, and you rested your cheek down on the cool surface while his hands wandered back to your skirt, pulling it all the way up and revealing your modest black underwear.

“Look at you,” he mocked, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, gathering them with your stockings. “Clothes torn, makeup ruined, bent over your boss’s desk with your pussy on display. It’s disgusting, really.”

You bit your lip, curling your fingers around the edge of the desk as he used one expensive shoe to kick your legs apart. You felt a shiver travel up your spine when he dragged one finger up between your folds, moving from your clit to your opening and slowly pushing it inside. He used his other hand to squeeze your left ass cheek, spreading it open and exposing you further, giving you a hard smack that rang throughout the room.

“Soaked,” he murmured, pumping his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, his other hand alternating between massaging and slapping the soft, rounded cheeks of your ass. “Did it make you wet when I fucked your pretty mouth? Used you like the little slut you are?”

All you could muster was a strangled moan, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his hands moving all over your body, like he owned you. Abruptly, he removed his hand from your ass and instead used it to grab you by your knotted hair, forcing you up while his fingers stilled inside you.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.” He twisted a strand of your hair around his hand and guided your head to one side so you could look at him behind you, his eyes dilated and droopy with lust. “Did it make you wet when I fucked your mouth?” he repeated.

“Yes,” you croaked, bucking your hips back again to meet his long fingers, but he drew them back. “God, yes, I loved it.”

“Of course you did,” he said, shooting you a disgusted sneer before dropping your head back down to the desk. He traced down your spine with a delicate touch before returning to your ass, giving it a sudden slap with such force that your eyes welled up with tears.

He moved his finger back and forth inside you, the sound wet and vulgar as he slipped a second one inside, stretching out your tight walls. You even swore you heard him moan himself, running his tongue over his upper lip at the feeling of your wet heat clenching around him. It was embarrassing how ready you were for him, how ready you were to be split on this stranger’s massive cock. You arched your back, too aroused by the thought to stay still, your cunt aching for more.

“Stay fucking still,” he ordered, increasing the speed of his fingers plunging inside you until it hurt, reaching up with his left hand to push his forearm down against your lower back. Despite the pain of his intense thrusting, you bucked your hips back to meet his hand, almost screaming out when you felt him brush against your innermost walls.

Just as you felt the coil inside your stomach beginning to unwind, Michael removed his fingers from you, causing tears to escape your eyes and drop onto the desk. You weren’t left too long in your frustrated state, however, because seconds later you felt the head of his cock just barely bury itself between your wet folds.

“You want this bad, don’t you?” he teased, sliding his cock up and down your slit, hardly applying any pressure to your sensitive core. His cock found its way back to your opening, lingering there while he administered a slap to the delicate skin between your upper thigh and ass. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed, tensing when he dragged his fingernails over the areas he’d hit. “Fuck, yes, I want it so bad. Please.” Right now, you were sure you’d do anything to have him fuck you, hard and rough just like you liked it. Fuck, you’d probably even sell your soul if it meant having him inside you, filling you up.

He let out a sharp exhale, and you couldn’t be sure if it was a laugh or a breath or something else, but you didn’t have time to figure it out, because without another word he fucked all the way into you, forcing a string of expletives past your spit-glossed lips.

“Oh fuck,” you nearly shouted, his fingers digging into the padded flesh of your hips as he decided on a rapid rhythm to fuck you with. Bringing one hand to your mouth, you bit down on the heel of your palm hard enough to draw blood, stifling your moans for the time being.

The way he fucked you was decadent, each roll of his hips deliberate and pointed. He was animalistic, throaty grunts leaving him as he impaled you over and over, pounding into you with such primal aggression that you knew you’d be sore for the next few days.

“That’s it, take my cock,” he growled mindlessly, spanking you each time he pushed all the way inside you. Your forehead streaked with sweat, hot cheek pressed firmly against the rattling desk, you knew you weren’t going to last long. He faltered for a moment while he reached down to pull you upright by your hair, allowing himself a momentary distraction as he reached around to toy with one of your nipples through your spit-damp bra. Now flush against him, the zipper down the front of his sweater cooling your hot skin, he wrapped his fingers around the hollow of your neck and gripped it tightly.

A few upwards thrusts and he was making contact with your cervix, tears flowing freely over your cheeks and down onto your hickey-adorned chest. His domineering hold on your throat only made the sensations of him filling you up more intense, his other hand groping your breasts possessively.

“Fuck, oh my god,” you moaned, tits bouncing obscenely and escaping the cups of your bra as he pulled you down to take his entire length. He snaked his hand off from your breast and down your stomach, quickly finding your clit and rubbing skillful circles against it. “Please, fuck!”

“Please what?” he mumbled into your ear, his hot breath causing your entire body to erupt into goosebumps.

“Please, Michael, oh god-“

“Please, what?” he demanded for a second time, now with far less patience behind his voice. His fingers clutched your throat unforgivingly, and your mouth fell open as you began to gasp for air.

“Please let m-me cum, Michael, please,” you begged, your high-pitched whine no doubt sounding pitiful, but you didn’t care. He hummed softly, continuing his assault on your pulsing clit, your mind going numb as you neared your climax.

You were right there, right fucking there, when he unexpectedly pulled out of you, his hand leaving your clit and moving down to pat your thigh. “No,” he said simply, flipping you back around and forcing you to your knees in front of him.

You were crying again, sniffling when he began to jerk himself over your face, yet you still opened your mouth for him with the obedience of a fucking dog. He tilted his head up towards the ceiling as his veined hand pumped long strokes up and down his cock, and with a low groan, he came, making sure to angle himself into your mouth so you could catch every drop of his load.

“Good girl,” he said hoarsely, and you felt yourself perking up at his praise, your tongue darting out to lick up any drop of cum that might’ve missed. You remained on the floor, utterly defiled at Michael’s feet, hair in disarray and chest covered in the marks he’d inflicted with his teeth. Your ass stung from the collision of Michael’s palm against it, but you liked it, liked being reminded of what had been done to you. 

“Stand up,” he commanded, but there was no longer any aggression behind his voice. He sounded gentle, even, and you couldn’t tell if he was showing you mercy or if he was merely spent. You rose to your feet, unsure of what to expect when he began grazing over your bare skin with his fingertips, observing the way you reacted to the feeling. You rolled your shoulders back, shivering with each feather-light brush of skin against skin, half-expecting him to hit you at any given moment.

“I knew you were the one,” he said softly, reaching over to caress your jaw. “You aren’t meant for this place.” 

“Wh-what are you talking about?” You were crossed with a sudden sense of panic when you remembered the mess that was yet to be cleaned up, whining in anguish as you turned to peer at the untouched pile of glass.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, pulling your head back towards him. Fuck, he was beautiful, his bone structure so perfect it looked like it’d been crafted by god himself. But, of course, that was far from the case. “I think your soul is exactly the kind my father hungers for.”

“My soul?” There he went again with the antichrist talk, but something about the seriousness of his expression made you think that this wasn’t a joke. 

“Clearly you have no issue submitting to your carnal urges,” he said with a chuckle, eyes trailing over your torn stockings, still bunched up at your knees. “And that’s exactly what my father wants. A person who can’t be satiated. Who’ll do anything to satisfy their selfish desires. I could smell it on you from the first second I saw you.” 

You blinked wordlessly at him, fairly certain of what he was suggesting. This couldn’t be real, and yet… it was. You’d seen with your own eyes was Michael was capable of. “You want me to-“

“-Sell your soul, yes. Give yourself over to me. My father can give you everything you ever wanted,” he said, swiping his thumb over your lower lip before leaning in close to you, his peppermint-scented breath hot on your face. “He’ll make you more powerful than any of the morons at this company you’ve been slaving over. All he needs is that precious soul of yours, (y/n).”

“I- I- I’m not-“ you stuttered, ashamed of how tempted you were right now to take the offer, give your soul over to this undoubtedly dangerous man. When he looked at you, you felt invigorating electricity shoot through your veins; you wanted more of him, craved him, like he was a drug. Maybe this was what you needed all along. “I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do.” He tucked a strand of your moist (h/c) hair behind your ear, a soft tsk-ing sound coming from the back of his mouth. “You’ll be in good hands, I assure you.”

“I-“ you said, racking your brain for something suitable to say. You couldn’t be rash about this: even though you’d seemed to have temporarily lost hold of your sanity, you still had to stay collected, logical, in a situation like this one. You couldn’t just throw your soul away without thinking it through first, could you? “I’ll think about it.”

A triumphant grin stretched across his perfect mouth, breaking through his otherwise stoic expression. He knew he had you, or at least almost had you, but that was enough for him. 

“-Only if you clean this mess up,” you added, jutting a finger at the mess he’d created. 

He rolled his eyes, twirling one wrist lazily. Immediately the shards of glass sprung upwards as if by magic, reconnecting midair and forming the shape of the destroyed bowl. Next came the cocaine, drifting like snow into the hovering bowl, and then, like a cherry on top, came the lid. You watched in awe as it returned to the desk, impeccable, like it’d never been touched.

Well, fuck, you thought. 

“Happy?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and lifting an eyebrow expectantly.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, leaning down to roll your stockings back up before adjusting your skirt. It was then that you recalled the way he’d ruined your shirt, and you pointed to that, too, a sad heap of black fabric on the ground. “That too, please?”

“Mm. Maybe you should stay like this. Let them see how much of a slut you are,” he said cheekily, to which you responded with a narrow-eyed glare. He sighed, making another motion with his wrist, and within seconds you were dressed again, looking just as polished as you’d been at the beginning of the day. 

You headed for the door, eager to be alone and reflect on everything that had just happened. Michael’s offers were tempting, but could you really trust him? 

Just as you were about to leave, you heard Michael call your name, and you whipped around to face him once more.

“I’ll be back here tomorrow. I expect you to have made your decision by then.” 

You nodded. You had a gnawing feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you obeyed Michael’s commands.


	8. Obedience (Fire and Reign Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot: being the antichrist’s personal secretary is sometimes a lot more than you bargained for. not that you’re complaining.
> 
> warnings: degradation, humiliation, fingering, exhibitionism, dom/sub shit, orgasm denial, fire and reign michael

“You’re late.”

You flinched under the disapproving blue-eyed stare of your boss, Michael Langdon, who was reclined slightly in his oversized desk chair. On the other side of the desk sat a polished-looking man, fingers laced in front of him on the mahogany desk.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumbled, looking down to the floor as you hurried over, brandishing two cups of black coffee in either hand. “There was a lot of traffic.”

Michael said nothing, watching as you placed the coffees in front of him and his guest, eyebrows raised slightly. You knew that look, unforgiving and irritable, and your stomach dropped. Despite this, you couldn’t help but notice how delicious he looked today, blond waves framing his handsome face, just barely kissing his blazer-clad shoulders. You chewed your bottom lip, moving to turn around, but he held up a hand.

“Come here,” he said, voice soft but domineering, and you complied; for a moment the only sound in the spacious office was your low heels clicking against the marble floor as you approached him, stopping just in front of his chair.

Michael licked his lips, beckoning you forward with a subtle tilt of his head, spreading his thighs. You blinked, fully aware of what he expected of you, shooting a sidelong glance to his visitor before perching yourself on his knee.

Michael never really had much discretion when it came to your relationship; he didn’t have to. He was the antichrist, after all, which meant that he could do as he pleased. Nobody at the office was stupid enough to question him, including you, and even if they did, he’d simply reduce them to a pile of ash with a mere flick of his wrist.

Slipping one hand around your waist, he turned back to the man and resumed his conversation without acknowledging you, tone smooth and even. God, his voice was sexy. He drummed his fingers on your upper thigh, your pencil skirt hiked up almost to the point where your garters were visible.

For a while, you sat there, enjoying the way Michael’s warm fingers caressed your exposed skin. You could tell that the man was slightly distracted by this, eyes flickering over to you every few seconds. You looked away, a light flush making its way over your cheeks.

You almost gasped aloud when Michael’s touch began making its way upwards, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt before freeing the lowest button from its hold. He didn’t let up, casually undoing each button until your lacy bra was exposed- the red one, Michael’s favorite, which he’d instructed for you to wear the day before. He continued to talk business with his visitor, not once bothering to mention what he was doing to you, your cheeks going from pale pink to beet red.

Once your chest was exposed, he shifted his knee so you were facing him, bringing his opposite hand to your left breast and palming it roughly through the thin fabric. Shutting your eyes, you refused to look at the guest, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Right, well, what were you thinking?” he said to the man coolly, pulling the cup down so your nipple was in full view. He tweaked it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, and he dug his nails into your thigh as a warning. It wasn’t long before he’d pulled down the other cup, tugging at your areola painfully and kneading it with his thumb.

You squirmed, resulting in Michael grabbing your hips and stilling you, his knee pushing up into your ass. It was then that a new idea seemed to dawn on him: he pulled you forward until your upper body was flush against his legs, and obediently you repositioned yourself so you were lying fully across his lap.

At least now you wouldn’t have to see the look on the man’s face as Michael shamelessly defiled you, you thought, panting as you felt him pull up your skirt. Your ass was bare, seeing that Michael had forbidden you from wearing underwear in his presence, giving him full and immediate access to you.

Michael kept on with his conversation, running his palms over the smooth skin of your upper thighs, which was streaked with red marks from the many times that he’d disciplined you. He was hard to please, and oftentimes you weren’t able to meet his expectations- for you, this meant physical punishments, and often. He had no qualms against belting you as you’d lay bent over his desk, your squeals on full blast for anyone in the office to hear. It was humiliating, yes, but you couldn’t help but love it.

Michael took a fistful of your ass before giving the soft skin a harsh slap, and you could hear his visitor choke on his coffee, coughing loudly and clearing his throat. Michael paused, and you could only imagine the impatient expression on his face as he waited for the man to compose himself.

“Something the matter?” Michael said, dragging his fingertips down to meet your wet folds, and you shuddered audibly.

“N-no,” said the man quietly.

“Good. What were you saying?” He stroked up and down your slit teasingly, gathering your wetness on his fingers and lightly flicking your clit.

Fuck. You wiggled instinctively against him before stopping yourself, knowing it would only make Michael angry if you didn’t stay perfectly still. He spread your outer lips, dipping his middle finger just barely into your entrance, and without thinking, you let out a low moan.

Your heart hammered in your chest as Michael took your hair at the root and forced you up to look at him, finally paying you some attention. His jaw was clenched and his gaze was searing, intensifying the fear and arousal already coursing through your body.

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of an important conversation, (y/n)?” he asked you, widening his eyes as a mocking, nasty smirk crossed his plump lips. “You’re being extremely rude.”

You blinked up at your boss with glossy eyes, skin prickling hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sir.” Your voice was hardly above a whisper; Michael cocked his head.

“Do not interrupt me again.” He dropped your hair and you fell back, his hand returning to your heat. Now, though, his touch was far from tender, two of his long fingers immediately ramming inside you. You brought one hand to your mouth, sinking your teeth into the heel of your palm, tears spouting from the corners of your eyes and traveling down the sides of your face.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized to the man, wasting no time before settling on a fast, hard rhythm to fuck you with. The sound was vulgar and wet, his fingers stretching your tight walls as they pounded into you over and over, needy whimpers leaving your throat each time he entered you fully.

You bucked your hips back desperately, your walls already beginning to clench around him, and he brought his free hand down to your lower back to keep you in place. You could feel your juices trickling down your inner thighs, no doubt making a lewd scene for Michael’s guest; you were too wrapped up in the feeling of Michael using you, though, to feel much embarrassment.

His movements became more erratic, and you knew he was trying to get a rise out of you, break you; he liked when you disobeyed him, giving him all the more reason to punish you, but you were determined not to lose control. You could taste blood from how hard you were biting your hand, your upper body surging forward with each ruthless, painful thrust. You were close, so close…

“Don’t even think about cumming,” he said calmly, but venomously, and it took you a moment to register that the words had been directed towards you. You groaned, willing away the orgasm that was threatening to wash over you, silently cursing him for being so fucking cruel. He curled his fingers inside you, and you could picture the self-satisfied grin on his perfect face as your body began to convulse. You wondered what the man was thinking right now, if he was able to look at anything but you, being ravished over Michael’s knee. You doubted he could.

Michael continued this for several minutes, bringing you to the edge and holding you there, skillful fingers working at your innermost walls like no one else ever could. And then, right when you were about to unravel, his fingers left you entirely.

You held back a whine, pouting as Michael eased your skirt back over your ass and pulled you upright. You took to sitting on his knee again, your arousal coating his pant leg, and he lifted his slick fingers to your lips. Without being asked, you opened your mouth, running your tongue over his fingers and tasting yourself. He pushed them all the way to the back of your throat, nearly gagging you, but you wrapped your lips around them just like you knew he wanted.

When he decided that they’d been sufficiently cleaned, he pulled out with a noisy pop. Finally you allowed yourself to look over at the man, whose eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. You swallowed nervously, giving him a polite smile when he met your gaze, fingers fidgeting over your thighs. He responded with a shaky nod, and you shyly looked away.

“Why don’t you go be a doll and file my paperwork, hm?” Michael said evenly as he buttoned up your shirt and smoothed out your collar. You stood up, folding your arms behind you, head lowered.

“Yes, sir.”


	9. Sweeter Than Candy (Hawthorne!Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot: it’s impossible for you to resist michael langdon. especially when he’s just so goddamn sweet. 
> 
> warnings: bratty!sub!Michael, soft!dom!reader, femdom, pegging, dirty talk

If there was one thing in this world you were unable to resist, it was the temptation of your boyfriend, Michael Langdon. God, there was just something about him, something about those plump pink lips and the way they wrapped so beautifully around his velvet-smooth words. You’d give him anything he wanted- all he had to do was ask, bat those hooded baby blue eyes of his, ever-glistening with a mischievous light, and you’d give in.

Somehow, though, you didn’t mind.

Tonight was no different. He’d been practically begging all day for this, buttering you up with soft kisses to your neck between classes, toying with your hands in that way he knew made your heart flutter. Michael, I have to go to sleep early tonight, you’d told him half-heartedly, wanting so badly just to give in like you always did.

But I’ve been such a good boy, he’d countered lowly into your ear, sending your muscles rippling, goosebumps taking over your body. Fuck, he always knew exactly what would get you.

Now, as you lay reclined across Michael’s pristinely-made bed, preparing to give him exactly what he’d been begging for, you shook your head at how goddamn spoiled he really was. The little brat could never take no for an answer, always used to being handed whatever he wanted by his teachers and classmates. And you, you knew, were just as complicit in the matter.

The door to Michael’s bathroom opened and out he came, swaying his hips as he sauntered over to the end of the bed. He radiated confidence, and understandably so - he looked fucking ethereal right now, a goddamn androgynous angel, white dress shirt unbuttoned to expose his smooth, slightly curved tummy. The shirt was wrinkled, hanging loosely around thick thighs, an unraveled expanse of black ribbon swung haphazardly over one shoulder.

A pair of form-fitting gray boxer briefs left little to the imagination, clinging to his mouthwatering bulge, already semi-erect and leaking, leaving small dark spots in the fabric. He noticed you looking, a smirk crossing his face, and it was then that you noticed the spit-slick lollipop in his hand, because of course he was eating a goddamned lollipop, now of all times.

He dragged the candy against his stained lower lip, swirling his tongue over it as he hollowed out his cheeks, the fucking tease. You could see that the candy had turned his tongue a deepened red shade, and your mouth watered, imagining the cherry flavor you’d taste when he kissed you. 

He pulled the lollipop back from his lips with a noisy pop, making a dip in the bed as he knelt by your feet. He jutted one hip out, eyes flickering as they traveled down your upper body and over to your pelvis, where a thick black strap-on was fastened with leather straps.

He smiled.

“C’mere,” you said softly, running your fingers along the plastic length as you beckoned him forward with your other hand. He lowered his body, crawling towards you with a greedy hunger in his drooping eyes, almost looking animalistic with each melodic roll of his narrow hips.

Wedging himself between your bare thighs, he took the shaft in one veined hand and nuzzled his cheek against it, never one breaking eye contact as he craned his neck to administer a slow lick up the side. You rolled your lower lip between your teeth at the sight, reaching down to run your fingers through his soft golden waves, falling wildly around his angular face.

“What do you say?” you asked him, cupping his jaw and caressing the flawless skin with your thumb.

“Thank you,” he said, drawing out the syllables to the point where he almost sounded drunk, and in a sense you knew he was, intoxicated by the pure, unbridled lust that vibrated in his bloodstream. He wrapped his pretty lips around the head of the plastic cock, eyes wide and unmoving as he dipped his head down further, moaning wantonly around the toy as you gently guided his head up and down.

“Good boy,” you praised. “Show me how bad you want it.”

You already knew without him having to show you, of course. It was fairly obvious that he craved the feeling of your fake cock filling him up, pounding him until he couldn’t remember his name. He’d made those desires abundantly clear, whispering how badly he wanted to be fucked as soon as you saw him that morning. And, even though you’d denied him at first, not wanting to be bothered with the exhausting ordeal of fucking him, you’d both known that eventually you’d give in to his desperate pleas, just like you always did.

Spoiled little shit, you thought affectionately, watching as Michael pulled the cock out of his mouth with a soft gasp, a silvery string of saliva trickling down his chin.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand, popping the lollipop back into his mouth and sucking noisily.

“You ready to ride my cock? Hmm?” you said, and he nodded, soft curls falling into his face with the motion of his head. He brought himself back to his knees, towering over you unintentionally; you reached over to his neatly kept bedside table, retrieving the bottle of lube from the top drawer. Squirting a generous amount into your palm, you smeared it across the plastic and swirled the substance into Michael’s saliva, hissing under your breath like you were really experiencing the sensation of wet skin against skin. Michael took another lick of his candy, making sure to keep his eyes locked with yours as he spread the gathered sweetness across his upper lip with the tip of his tongue, working down his tight boxers with his opposite hand.

You couldn’t help yourself, reaching out to impatiently pull his underwear down to his knees, tracing a finger down the soft trail of blond hair beneath his navel. His cock immediately sprung upwards, hitting his stomach the second it slipped from its confines - every time you saw it was like the first time, your heart hammering at its mouthwatering length, and again you couldn’t help but touch him, massaging the milky bead of precum into the angled tip. 

He whined at your touch, bringing himself further up on the bed and straddling you. Next he reached behind him, fully removing his underwear and discarding it onto the wooden floor, leaving him in only his dress shirt and tall black socks, stretching all the way up his toned calves to his knees. You thought this look suited him, the dirty, debauched school boy.

“Turn around,” you urged, wrapping your fingers around his shaft one final time before he complied with your demands. “Wanna watch that pretty ass get split on my cock.”

He got into position, facing away from you now, one hand emerging from between his parted thighs to grip your strap-on. You traced your fingernails along the curved expanse of his ass cheek, leaving shallow pink marks against the smooth, undisturbed skin before giving it a teasing slap. You could hear the almost erotic sound of Michael’s teeth and tongue working at his lollipop, peering at you over his shoulder with a coy look in his glittering eyes.

Taking a firm hold on either side of his body, digging your fingers into the padded, warm flesh of his hips, you pulled him downwards before moving your grip back to his ass to spread him open. Pushing the slippery head of the cock against his entrance, you eased it inside, reveling in the needy moan that spilled past his swollen lips in response.

“Go on,” you said, bucking your hips up with just enough force that a surprised squeal escaped the boy’s throat. In one smooth motion, he glided all the way down until his ass was flush against your pelvis, cheeks clenching hungrily around the plastic cock. “Work for it, baby.”

You took a fistful of his ass in both hands, kneading the mounds roughly as you eased them apart, eager to see his tight hole stretch for you. His sounds were low at first, just cute little whimpers as he began to roll his hips back onto the cock, leaning back to support himself on one hand, splayed palm-down beside you. It wasn’t long, though, before he was crying out, panting as he bounced himself against the thick member like his life depended on it. His head lolling back limply, pale eyes fluttering into his skull, he brought the lollipop again to his lips, head tilted to one side so you could view his profile over his toned shoulder; he groaned as he lapped at the shrinking candy, red-tinted spit glimmering in the corners of his plump mouth, and without thinking you let out a raspy moan of your own.

“You like having your tight hole stretched by my cock, Mikey?” you asked him, tone so syrupy sweet it was almost condescending. He opened his eyes, shooting you a cheeky wink as he bobbed his head up and down, sweat-soaked curls clinging to the sides of his face and neck.

“You know I do,” he replied, still managing, even with his cracked, fucked-out voice, to sound nauseatingly self-satisfied. God, that boy wonder was something else, always seeming to have the upper hand even when he was submitting to you.

You dug your fingers harshly into the blonde’s muscular upper thighs, hoping to leave some sort of mark on his body; then you thrusted up into him with as much pointed aggression as you could muster, meeting him halfway, and in return came a deliciously needy whine from the back of his throat.

“Fuuuck,” he sighed, and you loved it, loved the sweet vulnerability seeping from his pores like honey. You worked your hips in time with his, making sure he could feel you filling him up, making sure he’d remember this for days to come. “Can I —“ he asked, looking over at you again, tongue darting to the edge of his mouth as he jutted his chin downwards towards his neglected cock. You knew what he was asking; smiling, you lifted your arm to lovingly pet at his damp hair.

“Since you’ve been such a good boy, and since you asked so nicely, go ahead.” Even if he hadn’t been so good, you probably would’ve let him anyway, but you weren’t about to admit that. He shifted himself so he was upright again, still eating that goddamned lollipop, and with his now-free hand he began to pump his length loosely.

His moans were erratic now, his hips pushing frantically down against your fake cock as his fist worked quickly between his legs. Vulgar sounds of slapping skin filled the air as Michael fucked himself on you, melding perfectly with his pornographic “uh-uh-uh’s” and your own low grunts. He was close, you could tell, his head thrown all the way back towards the ceiling, and with a few more upward pushes, he was cumming hard.

“Good boy,” you cooed as he rode out his orgasm, his motions slowing as he sucked in a sharp breath. Once he’d ridden out every last drop of white-hot pleasure, he gingerly pulled himself off of your cock; you observed with awe as his hole gaped from the massive thickness of your strap-on, the puckered skin surrounding his opening irritated and pink. 

When he turned around, you could see that his smooth torso was painted with silky streaks of his cum, his cheeks flushed and rosy and beaming with perspiration. You were certain, in that moment, that there was no sight more beautiful than a defiled Michael Langdon.

“You’re too good to me,” he said breathlessly, biting down on the remainder of his lollipop and chewing the splinters of hard candy that had broken in his mouth.

“I know,” you teased, leaning up further against the pillows as he bent down to become eye-level with you. Pressing his lips against yours, you sighed at the hot, sticky sweetness clinging to his lips, warm tongue melding against yours to transfer the sugary flavor.

Just as expected, he tasted like cherry.


	10. Convince Me (Hawthorne!Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot: michael langdon can give you what you want, but he sure as hell isn’t going to make it easy for you.
> 
> warnings: fem!reader, hawthorne!michael, dirty talk, cocky michael, over the clothes stuff??, degradation, no actual smut (but a lot of sexual themes lmao)

He finally had you right where he wanted you.

It’d been a whirlwind few months, attempting to half-heartedly ward off the advances of the boy wonder himself, Michael Langdon. He’d been drawn to you instantly, that first day he’d joined classes at Robichaux’s. Most of the girls’ jaws had dropped the minute he walked through the door, looking handsome and put-together with his styled waves of golden curls and dark clothes.

Even your gaze had lingered for a moment as he made his way through those white hallways, swaying his hips like he was on a goddamned runway. He knew he was attractive, that he was wanted by most people who laid eyes on him- you could tell from that cocky grin that always seemed to be situated across his full pink lips, and the drawling, almost mocking tone with which he always spoke.

So when he’d begun to pursue you, you’d refused to give him the satisfaction of showing him any interest. Which, in turn, had only made him want you more.

And now here you were, straddled on his lap as he sat on the edge of his bed, having been unable to resist this gorgeous boy any longer. He had a vice grip on your upper thighs as you kissed him, lightly grinding your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. And god damn, was he a good kisser; his tongue felt heavenly against yours, warm and soft and coaxing, his pace lazy but certainly not gentle.

You let out a soft whine when you felt his large hand trail up and down your leg, pausing to teasingly snap the band of your thigh-high sock against your skin. He smirked against your mouth, taking your lower lip between his teeth before reattaching his lips against your jaw.

“I always knew we’d end up like this eventually,” he mumbled lowly, causing your body to erupt into goosebumps from the vibrations of his words. “You were so cute, pretending you didn’t want me. What do they call it? Playing hard to get?”

He snickered to himself, taking in a sharp breath as he splayed his palm against your bare thigh and slid it past the hem of your skirt, giving you a hard squeeze in the process. Dipping his head to meet your neck, he began to suck a bruise just by your jugular, sinking his teeth into the delicate stretch of skin with enough force to make you cry out. You bit your lip, knowing you were going to have a nasty bruise to try and cover up tomorrow.

You jumped at the feeling of his fingertips against your underwear, dragging slowly over the lacy fabric until they reached the damp patch between your thighs. He hummed thoughtfully at the discovery, and from the back of his throat came another laugh. “Awww, wet already, baby?” he teased, pulling away from your neck to look at you with those lust-filled, hooded blue eyes.

You felt your cheeks flush deep red, his fingers forming soft circles over your clit as his other hand reached up to cup your face. His smile grew when he heard your breath hitch, and he gave your bud a forceful push, clearly hoping to elicit another reaction from you. You whimpered, rolling your hips forward to meet his hand, and he tsked softly.

“What do you want?” he asked you, taking to stroking up and down your clothed slit. You couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled, a hardly detectable mixture of cinnamon and sandalwood and pine, only apparent from your close proximity to him. “Hm?”

Noticing that you were trying to look away, he took your chin in his hand and guided it back in his direction.

“You know what I want,” you said, voice hardly above a whisper, and he shook his head.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You sighed, although you certainly weren’t surprised that he was pulling something like this. Swallowing your pride, you spoke. “I- want you, Michael.”

He brushed against your clit again with a feather light touch, but the contact was enough to make you jump in surprise. “Want me how?” You could hear the amusement behind his voice, and you rolled your eyes. He was having fun with this, intentionally riling you up.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you wrapped your fingers around the massive protrusion in the front of Michael’s pants. “Does this answer your question?” you asked with a quirk of your eyebrow.

He hissed, but managed to quickly compose himself again, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and moving it back. “Ah ah, I don’t think so.” He brought your hand to his face, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “You’re going to have to beg me for it.”

You were speechless for a second, but the authoritative tone of his voice seemed to only increase the arousal pooling between your legs. Still, you opened your mouth to protest, narrowing your eyes irritably in his direction. His gaze remained on you, unwavering and calm, and then he grinned, flashing you his perfect teeth.

Fuck, you wanted to punch him so badly right now.

“You think I’m going to make it easy for you? After all these months you’ve turned me away?” he purred, cupping your pussy with a sudden possessiveness that made you gasp.

“M-Michael,” you choked out, eyes fluttering at the warmth of his fingers against your wet heat; you knew after this, your panties would be completely soaked through, but at this point you didn’t care. “You- you can’t be serious.”

But you knew he was; he gave you a pout, feigning sympathy, cocking his head to tug your earlobe into his mouth with his teeth. “Oh, I’m more than serious, (y/n). I’m a man of my word, aren’t I?” His breath was hot against you, and you shuddered, your hair standing on end.

You said nothing, shutting your eyes and rocking yourself forward, hoping to increase the pressure on your sensitive bud. Michael, catching on to this, drew his hand away.

“Go on and beg me, sweetheart,” he said; you wanted to be angry with him for referring to you so condescendingly, but instead you only felt yourself flood with more desperation. You had to be under some sort of spell, you decided, too ashamed to admit the attraction you held towards this abundantly confident man.

“Please,” you said, a half-assed plea, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Frowning, you shifted yourself so that your chest was flush against his, your crotch pressing firmly against his erection. In response, he moved his hands behind you to your ass, slipping them under your skirt and roughly kneading the smooth peaks.

“Please,” you repeated, slow and soft, burying your head in his neck and taking a deep inhale of his cologne. You reached up and toyed with the black ribbon around his neck, easing it out of its knot and tugging slightly at the satin material. “I need you, Michael. Please.”

He looked up at you, fucking delicious with his angled features and porcelain skin, and for a second you almost thought he was ready to give in. Your hope fell away, though, when he let out a raspy chuckle.

“I can’t take your begging seriously when you’re looking down at me like this.”

You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he was insinuating. And then, all at once, it dawned on you; you nearly let out a groan right then and there. He really wasn’t going to cut you any slack, was he?

With a glare, you slapped his hands away from your ass and slipped off of his knees, lowering yourself onto the wooden floor and wedging yourself between his legs. Sure, you could refuse, spare your pride, but you were too turned on at this point to be blue-balled. He wanted begging? You’d show him begging.

“Mm. Much better,” he said, stroking your hair as you settled yourself, resting your cheek against his thigh and blinking up at him innocently.

“Michael, I need you to fuck me,” you started, running your hands up and down his thighs. He continued to pet your hair, inhaling sharply when you nuzzled your face dangerously close to his crotch. “Please.”

He flashed you an all-too-familiar smug smile, and you were filled with a strange combination of distaste and lust; frustrated, you dug your nails into his legs through the stiff fabric of his pants.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember my name,” you said, hoping that if your words became more vulgar, he’d become more inclined to give you what you wanted. You heard something that sounded vaguely like a growl come from the back of his throat, but he didn’t let up. “Want you to make me cum all over your cock.”

“You’re still not convincing me,” he said in a bored monotone, threading his fingers through your hair and guiding your head back by the root. “I want to see how desperate you are for it.”

Again you felt that dip in your tummy, your cunt throbbing almost painfully. Pressing your thighs together in an attempt to garner some relief, you widened your eyes at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You were close to actually begging now, anxious to satiate your cravings, but you supposed that’d been Michael’s goal in the first place.

“Michael, please, please, I need it,” you rasped, and you knew he could sense the urgency behind your voice; he laughed cruelly, eyes sparkling at the pathetic sight of you on your knees before him, not a thought on your mind but him. Your face prickled hot with embarrassment, but the feeling only aroused you further, quiet pants escaping your bitten-red lips as you grasped at the hem of his sweater. “Please, fuck, I’ll do anything, please.” He responded to your mindless begging with an idle pat on your cheek, urging you on, and you leant your forehead against his inner thigh. Sobbing softly, you moved towards the prominent tent in his pants, unsure what more you could do to convince him. Was he really going to leave you high and dry? Humiliate you, and then leave you unsatisfied?

Through tear-rimmed retinas, you begged him wordlessly, his heavy-lidded eyes boring into yours. Craning your neck, you began mouthing at his hard cock through his pants, soaking the expensive material with your saliva. His hand dropped down to your head, tightly gripping your hair as you moaned at the feeling of his thick, twitching shaft in your mouth.

“So needy,” he mused, hips stirring as you dampened the front of his pants with each desperate movement of your lips. You flattened your tongue against the side of his bulge, trying to feel as much of him as you could, one hand traveling down between your legs to rub your clit. “No,” he said, and you wondered how he’d been able to tell. Sheepishly you returned your hands to his thighs, batting your eyelashes at him as a string of spit stretched from your glistening lower lip to the front of his slacks.

“Good girl,” he said, allowing you a few more seconds of this before he finally stopped you, tucking two fingers under your chin and tilting it upwards.

“Have I convinced you?” you asked him, hopeful. You squirmed, clenching your thighs tightly as another wave of arousal reached your cunt. God damn it, if he said no…

“Hm. I suppose so,” he said, petting your hair and wiping away the small beads of tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes. “But, just so I can be absolutely sure that you really want this-“

You scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest and rocking back onto your heels.

“-Why don’t you go ahead and show me again? Without the pants in the way this time.”

Fucking asshole.

Of course, though, you obeyed, reaching forward to unbuckle his pants.

Exactly like you expected, he smirked.


	11. Punishment (Fire and Reign Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: dubcon (even tho there’s an implied relationship between michael and the reader), anal, face fucking, breath play, degradation

Michael was always the scariest when he was like this: calm, collected, his hands neatly folded behind his back as he regarded you with those baby blue eyes, flickering with a lustful wickedness. You were sure you’d be less frightened of him if he was screaming, or even if he had you on your knees with a knife to your throat. But right now, all he did was look at you. And you were scared shitless.

He smirked. There was no friendliness behind it, no happiness, only a sadistic sort of pleasure as he absorbed your obvious fear. His tongue darted out from his mouth to run over his upper lip as he circled you, enjoying the way you flinched with his every motion.

“Now, (y/n), was I not perfectly clear with my instructions?” he asked you coolly, tilting his head to one side like a predator observing its prey. He was a predator of sorts, you supposed, and a beautiful one at that. You knew he was going to destroy you.

“Y-you were, sir,” you mumbled, eyes on the ground as your hands fidgeted nervously in front of you. Michael had an extremely low tolerance for screwups, always devoid of any sort of sympathy for natural human error. You understood this: he was nowhere near a human, not by a long shot, even though he looked like one with his golden curls and creamy skin.

He let out a chuckle, stopping in front of you. “So then why, pray tell, did you not do what I asked?” He reached forward with a sudden surge of energy and grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to meet his searing gaze. “You will look at me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes sir,” you said, dangerously close to tears, skin prickling with a familiar warmth as he laughed openly at your distress. “I’m sorry, sir. I- I forgot. I swear I didn’t m-mean to inconvenience you-“

He landed a hard slap to the side of your face, and all at once the tears that had been pooling in your eyes began to travel down your burning cheeks.

“Oh, you forgot?” he asked you with a mocking twinge to his voice, a nasty grin forming on his face. “You aren’t being paid to forget to do as you’re told. And do you know what happens when you don’t do as you’re told?”

You sniffled, trying to keep eye contact with your boss for fear that your disobedience would make him more angry. “I- I get punished?”

“So you didn’t forget that,” he sneered, taking hold of your hair and pulling it taut in his large hands. “Surprising, since apparently your brain doesn’t have the capacity to understand anything I tell you.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir,” you sobbed, eyes going bleary with more uncontrollably streaming tears. He brought his face close to yours, plump lips curved downwards and nostrils flared, pulling your hair so tightly you almost cried out.

“Do you think I give a shit?”

You said nothing, only exhaling in partial relief when he let go. Then he widened his eyes at you expectantly, folding his hands behind him once more. “On your knees. Now.”

You immediately did as you were told, dropping so quickly it hurt as you made contact with the hard marble floor. He looked down at you, not a shred of sympathy in sight as he began to retrieve his erection from his expensive black pants. Instinctively, your mouth watered at the sight, long and flushed and leaking precum. You weren’t surprised that he was hard already- he got off on this sort of thing, inflicting fear and pain upon you.

He grabbed his shaft and slapped you across the cheek with it, before reaching down and unhinging your jaw wide for him. You gave him no resistance, not wanting to worsen matters for yourself, and without hesitation he slid himself all the way to the back of your throat.

“Incompetent little sluts don’t get to breathe,” he said, bringing his hand from your jaw to your nose, plugging it as he began to thrust himself deep enough that he could likely see the imprint of his cock in your throat. You sputtered, trying your best to keep your jaw unhinged, his thrusts ruthless and aggressive.

It didn’t take long for your vision to become spotty, and you found yourself worrying that he might actually let you lose consciousness. You wouldn’t put it past him, in all honesty, and with each hard push into your mouth, you became more and more lightheaded.

“Get it wet,” he growled, forcing your head all the way down on his length with his free hand and holding you there firmly. “Or else you’re really not gonna like what’s happening next.”

You knew better than to question him, his cock suddenly leaving your mouth and fingers unplugging your nose. You took in a sharp, grateful breath, panting as you reached up to wipe away the spit and tears that dribbled down your trembling chin. He didn’t give you much time to recover, though, his cock making contact with the side of your face for a second time.

“Spit on it,” he said, his tone bored and monotone, and you did, taking hold of his thick shaft and forming a wad of saliva in your mouth before letting it dribble down onto his stiff skin. When his cock was practically glistening with your spit, he forced you to your feet by your hair, yanking you towards the desk and throwing you over it. You hissed in pain, the hard wooden edge of the desk cutting into your stomach, curling your hands into fists on either side of your head.

Behind you, Michael hiked your skirt up to your waist and pulled down your pantyhose, making a large tear in the thin fabric in the process. Then came your underwear, which he tore off altogether with little effort, discarding the destroyed scrap on the ground haphazardly.

His palm immediately made contact with the smooth expanse of your exposed ass, bringing his other hand to your opposite cheek and spreading you wide. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you realized what he was planning, but again, you knew better than to protest.

“I’d suggest biting down on something,” he said before pushing the entirety of his cock into your ass without warning. You took his advice, biting the heel of your hand hard enough to bruise as a pitiful scream threatened to escape your swollen lips. It hurt, bad, his thick cock stretching you out, his long fingers digging into your hips mercilessly as he fucked into your tight hole.

The surface of the desk was already spotted with your tears, cheek flush against the polished mahogany as he used you, hard length stretching your ass wide. He let go of one side of you to land a painful smack on your upper thigh, and then another one, this time even harder, on your ass cheek. You were sure your cries were loud enough to be heard throughout the entire building, even with your hand in place to stifle the sounds, but there was nothing you could do to silence yourself.

“M-Michael,” you wailed, hand falling from your mouth and hitting the desk. “Michael, p-please…” you knew your begging would do nothing to change his mind- the two of you had an agreement: when you disobeyed his orders, you would be punished. And this was your punishment.

“What’s that, little slut? You want more?” You could practically hear the smile behind his words, see the cocky expression on his face. You shook your head fervently, lips parted in a silent scream, thighs shaking from the mixture of pleasure and pain that was encompassing your body.

“No, n-no, Michael-“

“Beg me to fill you with my cum.” He reached forward, tangling his fingers with your damp hair and forcing you back towards him. “Say it.”

“P-please, Michael, f-fill me with your c-cum,” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head, letting out a breath when he stilled inside you. “Please, it’s all I’m good for, p-please.”

You knew this was what he wanted, to hear you degrade yourself. With that, he released your hair and returned to pounding into you; within seconds, he was shooting his warm load deep in your ass.

You were a shaking, sweaty mess when he pulled out, his cum leaking from your hole and trickling down your thighs. He turned you around, sitting you on the edge of the desk as he worked your skirt back down and pulled your ripped pantyhose back into place. Of course he wouldn’t give you the opportunity to clean up, you thought bitterly.

“And what did we learn today?” he asked you, stroking your cheek with an unexpected tenderness, voice low and soft.

“A-always follow your orders correctly?” you managed, hoping your answer was what he was looking for.

“Good girl. Now go do what I asked you to do. Correctly this time.”


	12. Denied (Outpost Michael)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: orgasm denial, vaginal fingering

“(Y/n).”

You almost jumped when you heard his voice, realizing that he’d already arrived back from his office; Michael spoke sternly, his voice low as he regarded you, half-dressed with hair still damp from the shower.

“Yes?” you asked, cheeks flushing. You already knew that he wasn’t happy from the way he narrowed his eyes in your direction, arms folded behind his back. He brought one hand out from behind him and looked down at his watch calmly, and then back at your face again, the smallest hint of a smirk crossing his full lips.

“Did I not tell you to be ready by 8?” he said, walking slowly towards you. He looked handsome, as usual, in a deep burgundy jacket and well-fitting black trousers, not a strand of his long, silky hair out of place. It wasn’t often that Michael bothered to show up to dinner with the outpost, usually preferring to spend his time alone with you, or in his office working. Tonight, however, he’d planned on giving a few important announcements to the outpost, and had given you specific instructions to be ready by no later than 8:00, so the two of you could make an entrance together. But, of course, you’d forgotten.

“I completely lost track of time,” you said nervously, trying not to bite your lip when Michael drew even closer, hooded blue eyes dark and lustful.

“Yes, I can see that.” He reached forward and plucked your compact mirror from your hands, which you’d been looking into while applying your eyeliner. “I’m disappointed in you, (y/n). I thought we agreed that you would be more obedient from now on.”

“I know we did, sir,” you said quickly, watching him place the mirror down onto the bed. “I just- I took too long in the shower. I promise I’ll make it up to you-“ He rolled his eyes at your attempts at an excuse, before wrapping his fingers firmly around your wrist. The cool metal of his rings sent a chill up your spine, and you shivered as he abruptly pulled you to your feet.

“Open your legs,” he ordered, his tone flat and bored. Immediately you complied, parting your thighs as you widened your stance. Right now, you were dressed only in a skin-tight black skirt, with Michael’s favorite lingerie underneath, giving him perfect access to you.

His fingers trailed lazily up your inner thighs, rubbing small circles once he reached the lace material of your thong. “You understand that I’ll have to punish you for this, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as he pushed your underwear to the side and made much-needed contact with your core. How this was a punishment, you couldn’t be sure, but you weren’t about to question him.

“So tell me, (y/n),” he said, running his fingers along your inner lips, coating them in your already-present arousal. “Why did we agree that you would always be obedient to me?”

“B-because, your father owns me, and so therefore-“ you swallowed loudly when his fingers crept towards your clit, pushing lightly once he arrived at the swollen bundle of nerves. “y-you own me.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, lips twitching at the way your breaths became more shallow, his fingers circling your bud slowly. “So then why, time and time again, do you disobey me?”

You shuddered, his fingers trailing down your lips again before dipping two of them inside your entrance. “I- I don’t mean to,” you tried, his thumb finding its place against your clit as he fucked up inside you.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve disobeyed me, does it?” You shook your head, letting out a whine as he increased his pace inside you. “It doesn’t matter to me whether you meant it or not.”

“I- I know.” You ground your hips down harshly against his hand, lids fluttering as he curled his fingers against your tight inner walls. “I’m s-sorry.”

“I wish I believed you.” He brought his lips up to your ear, his hot breath causing all your hair to stand on end. He nibbled at your earlobe for a fleeting moment, before moving downwards to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin beneath it; you gasped, his thumb continuing to roughly work at your clit.

“Please,” you mumbled, rolling your neck to look up towards the ceiling. “God, M-Michael, I’m close.”

“Ah ah ah,” he chided, bringing the hand between your thighs to a halt. “You don’t cum until I say you can.” He brought his head out from the side of your neck to look at you expectantly, his expression stoic as he waited for you to acknowledge this.

“Yes, sir,” you managed weakly.

He returned to thrusting inside you with his fingers, grunting lowly as he aimed for your innermost parts, your legs shaking uncontrollably beneath you. You reached down to hold onto his forearm, rocking your body downwards to meet his motions, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer as desperate moans spilled past your lips.

His thumb effortlessly caressed your clit, tracing shapes over the aching bud, and you buried your head in the crook of his neck. Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt the coil inside you beginning to unwind, and you made an unsuccessful attempt to steady your breathing. “I’m- I’m gonna-“

“No, you’re not,” he said simply, before pulling his fingers from you with a wet, vulgar sound. You cried out in surprise, the pleasure fizzling away into nothing, and you knew you must look pathetic as you looked up at Michael- your eyes were wide and doe-like, tears spilling from them and into the corners of your trembling lips.

He laughed dryly, bringing his fingers to your mouth and pushing them inside. Despite your disappointment, you still sucked them clean, sighing at the taste of your wetness coating them.

He met your gaze, your lips still wrapped around his fingers, and he gave you a wicked smile.

“Now go finish getting ready. I don’t want to be later than 8:30.”


End file.
